The Varian Wars Part I
by Airbornranger521
Summary: Samus retires after BSL, but disaster strikes! A foreign army invades the Federation, and the X have survived and vowed vengeance! Who will emerge the victor in the titanic struggle of the three galactic superpowers? Please review! COMPLETED
1. Prologue

Prologue

  
  
  


Samus watched as the BSL station dipped down into the planet. The station faded out of view, and for an instant, it seemed as if her gamble would be all for nought. Then, suddenly, a pinpoint of golden light appeared, then grew into the whole cosmos was awash in amber. Samus squinted against the harsh light as the planet began to fissure and crack, canyons splitting and magma bubbling out through the cracks.

Then the massive hunks of the smashed world drifted away, out of sight, tiny islands in the vast expanse of space.

"You did it, Samus," said Adam.

She undid the seals on her helmet, shaking her golden hair down. Her face glistened with sweat, and her eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. "No, Adam, we did it."

The transformation of the computer Adam to the "real" Adam had been amazing. Amazing indeed, that a computer developed the capacity to take on the personality of it's programmed knowledge. Adam Malkovich was reborn in the circuitry of her ship's computer.

"Were to now?" asked Adam.

Samus shrugged, "Somewhere that I can rest. And rest for a long time."

Suddenly a klaxon went off, blaring noisily through the cramped cabin of the ship. Samus whirled around, fingers massaging the trigger of her arm cannon. "What's going on?" she yelled over the din.

"There was some damage to the ship from the debris! We're losing power to the navigation and propulsion systems."

_Damn_. Without those two systems, the ship would float aimlessly through the universe and never, ever be found. "Anything we can do?"

The ship bucked violently as the pitch thrusters gave out, sending the craft in a roller-coaster like maneuver. The computer didn't reply. Red warning flights began flashing over the console. "Adam?" she shouted now.

"Yes, I can stop it."

"Well let's hear it!" she said expectantly.

"I can reroute power from my system to the propulsion and navigation systems. That should restore full functionality to the ship. But..."

"But what?" demanded Samus as the ship tipped into a long, slow roll. "Come on, Adam, we're running out of time!"

"If I reroute power from my system, all data in my hard drive will be lost."

Samus gritted her teeth as the ship suddenly shot downward. She latched onto the bulkhead, hanging in midair as the ship careened haphazardly about. "Adam, we're both going to die if you don't do something."

She could almost hear the sound of Adam's silicon mind cranking away at the problem. She hoped that his newly rediscovered humanity would overcome the gross-rationlization of the computer.

Another violent buck and she lost her grip on the bulkhead, flying back into the far end of the cabin. She fell face down on the floor, struggling to stand. "Adam!" she yelled.

The computer's voice crackled. Samus swore she could hear sadness in the tone. "Samus. You're right. I saved your life once before. No reason I shouldn't do it again. I'll transfer power over to the systems. And don't give me a second funeral. I never really wanted the first one. Any objections, Lady?"

"No, sir," Samus barely whispered.

The bucking stopped. 

She stood up. One by one, the alarm lights blinked off and the klaxon ceased its cacophony. The ship stabilized and adjusted itself on a proper course as the navigation computer kicked in, righting the craft and ceasing its mad tumble.

"Adam?" she whispered, hoping for a reply, but realizing there was no hope. Adam Malkovich had given his life twice for hers. A tear rolled down her cheek, the first one to sprout from her eyes in many years. She found herself wishing she knew how to pray.

"Lights off," she said, and the ship interior turned pitch black. She found her way to her bunk and curled up in the sheets. Samus cried a long, long time.

  


"Landing in three, two, one," the zero-g pod settled down roughly on what was known as SR99A. It was one of the many pieces of SR388 that had drifted away after the world's destruction.

Maxon Zell undid the clasp of his harness and floated up to the top of the pod. He checked the seals on his space suit, then checked them over again, and then a third time. His oxygen and heating systems all registered as functional. "Sojourner 1 to Control. Request permission to begin op."

The reply filled his domelike headgear, "Roger that, Sojourner 1. Proceed with operation as planned."

"Wilco, command," answered Maxon as the pod's hatch hissed open, "Sojourner 1 out."

He hoped out and was confronted with a totally barren landscape. Many years before Maxon had walked upon the surface of Luna, and that was the only place that compared to SR99A's desolation. Anything that had once lived on the planet was totally wiped out, either by the explosion or the intense cold of space. 

Maxon flipped his light on and peered around. Near his landing site was a large entrance to a tunnel system. He examined the area around to ensure it's safety, then hopped down.

It was dark below, so dark his headlamp barely illuminated the area around him. What he could make out was the solid rock walls of the tunnel. He pressed his palm to the side of the tunnel. Even through his thick space suit he could feel the smoothness of the tunnel. This was no natural phenomenon. The explosion would've made a jagged wall, not the smooth, straight corridor he was standing in now.

Something had dug this tunnel.

Instantly he was reminded of the tunnels made by the Space Pirates on Zebes. But this wasn't made by them, there were none of the UV markings they used to identify their tunnels. He clicked his radio to transmit, "Control, Sojourner 1 reporting in. Have located fabricated subterranean tunnel on SR99A. Will report in with further investigation."

He began trudging down the arched tunnel. It sloped ever so slightly downward. The grade was so minuscule he barely noticed it during his transit. 

Maxon stopped abruptly as his foot bumped against a hard, immobile _something_. He only noticed it because it was a departure from the uniformness of the tunnel. He brought his light down to see his foot was now encased in a gelatinous, greenish goo. Aghast, he yanked his foot from the goo. The stuff hardened as his foot withdrew from it, turning into what seemed to be a green brick of ice. 

He brought his light back up, discovering a gargantuan mass of the same greenish ice, but also an equal amount of red and yellow chunks scattered about, forming a grotesque kind of abstract painting. "My God," he said.

"Say again, Sojourner 1? Sojourner 1, please repeat."

In his surprise he had inadvertently transmitted his radio. "This is Sojourner 1," he said. "I have located the object that created the tunnel. It is a large, multi-colored mass of frozen, apparently organic, material." He paused and shuddered as the chunk slurped back and joined with the main mass.

"Get a containment team down here, ASAP," he said. "I think I found the X."


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

  


Samus moaned as the communicator's irritating ring awakened her. She rubbed her eyes and blindly reached for the answer button on the headboard of her bunk. "Aran," she mumbled.

"Samus! How are ya?"

"Lights on," she said, sitting up. "How've you been, Maxon?" she asked, sounding rather disinterested.

"Me? Forget me. How're you? You must be feeling pretty wiped after that crazy shit on BSL."

"Huh," grunted Samus as she poured coffee grounds in the machine. Maxon had been an old partner of hers. They had worked together on a few minor things and split the bounty. Soon after, Maxon had split off to make his own way in the universe, which was fine with Samus. She found him somewhat annoying, but he was good at what he did.

"Doesn't matter much to anyone, does it?" she said. "The Federation is going to hound me everywhere I go. I broke their orders, no way their going to let me off the hook."

"That's just what I wanted to talk to you about," said Maxon.

The coffee maker began dripping out the rich brown liquid. 

"What?" she asked.

"Come on, Samus," he said. "Cut me some slack, will ya? The Federation has me investigating every golf-ball sized chunk of SR388, which _you _blew up. I'm under tremendous pressure."

Samus massaged her brow and snapped, "Either tell me the news or get off the line."

"All right, all right, already. The Federation is dropping all charges against you."

The coffee pot hovered in midair at that. There was a long, drawn out pause, then she said, "Why?"

Maxon chuckled, "I was as surprised as you were. I guess they figured the damaged you caused by breaking orders at BSL wasn't sufficient to indict you. Or they decided that arresting and trying a public hero would have too much politcal backlash. Either way, you're free, but I'd stay out of the Federation's hair for the time being."

"You're hiding something, Maxon," Samus said, her voice razor sharp with suspicion.

"I swear to you, Samus, the whole thing is the truth."

She angrily punched the hang up button and poured herself some coffee, immediately losing any desire for the drink. She set it on the table in the small kitchenette and walked out into the lounge. A long shower would be nice. She hadn't taken one since she landed at BSL. 

The water came down in a cloud of steam. The heat felt good against her grimy skin. She just stood there under the cascade of water, letting it run over her, soaking every inch of her body as she forced her knotted muscles to uncoil and relax. 

Maxon couldn't be trusted. She knew there was something he wasn't telling. He wasn't lying about the pardon, though no confirmation from the Federation had come through yet. Maxon had plenty of inside sources. 

But the circumstances made no sense. The Federation would not simply pardon a contracted mercenary who became insubordinate and was worthy of indictment under court martial. It was not the way things worked. There was some kind of mitigating circumstance, but what? What had happened to give her this break? 

The hell did it matter? Maybe she had landed on the proverbial chance spot on the proverbial Monolopy board and gotten a proverbial Get Out of Jail Free Card. She was through with the Federation anyway. Through with fighting. It was time to hang up the suit and retire. She could go to some idyllic world and live the rest of her life in peace.

Samus managed a small smile, and imagined the water swirling down the drain was her old life, disappearing. It made her feel a little better. But just a little.

  


Maxon leaned back in his chair as Samus hung up on him. He tried to open another line, but was refused or not answered each time. He sighed and turned to his console. 

The bounty hunter brought up his accounts on a secure file of his computer. As he did, a message popped up informing him of a transaction. The Federation Mercenary Contracting and Deployment Unit had transferred 100,000 credits to his account for his discovery of the X parasite on SR99A. 

That was why Samus was no longer considered a criminal. Containment of the X had been the main goal of the Federation, for later use, probably for military application. When it was believed Samus had wiped the X out, the Federation police were already preparing a case against her for treason and contract infringement. 

Then, Maxon had discovered the X, who had miraculously created a barrier for themselves against the harsh vacuum of space, and, as a result, survived on SR99A. Federation science teams had isolated the asteroid and built a large containment facility around the structure. The X had been successfully captured, and were now ready for research.

And now Samus Aran would retire, or at least that was the expected outcome. Why, then if Samus Aran retired, that would make him, Maxon Zell, the greatest bounty hunter in the Federation, wouldn't it? Maxon contemplated this with a bemused expression on his face. It was ironic, how is discovery had saved Samus from a lifetime in the brig, yet it was also forcing her into retirement. 

How he relished the irony of the whole situation! Maxon Zell, former underling to Samus Aran, now taking her throne as the greatest warrior in all the galaxy. Ironic, considering Samus had hitherto always been on top, literally and figuratively. 

Maxon chuckled to himself. Everything was looking up for him.The new research station at SR99A would be looking for some pretty heavy security. He could take a relatively easy, yet lucrative contract with the science commission to guard the facility. 

He punched in some coordinates for SR99A into his nav computer. The ship began a slow, rolling turn to bring it on the correct course to meet the station on its orbit around the star ST-11. 

Maxon sighed contentedly as his ship sped towards SR99A.

  


"Is everything prepared?"

"All ships are in place. The operation has been detailed in length to all captains. They await your command."

Admiral Zim nodded. "Very good." He stood on the bridge of the battleship _Hydra_. Before him the void stretched out to infinite, pinpoints of silver light shone through the blanket of black. Hundreds of worlds, like ripe fruit ready for picking, just waiting for them. 

"The time has come, my friends," he said. "For generations we have planned, revised, planned, trained, and died to prepare for this time."

He walked out to face the soldiers, all watching him expectantly. Young, eager faces. He could see the twinkle in their eyes. They were ready. Some of them licked their lips, as if they could nearly taste the blood of their enemies. Others seemed on the verge of bursting, so nervous he feared they would explode right then.

They had all devoted their lives to the realization of this moment. Their father's and grandfather's and great grandfather's had dedicated themselves to it. How proud they would be to see that it had finally come! 

Admiral Zim was the oldest man, and also commander of the fleet. He was one of the few who remained from the turbulent times of the Zebesian Conflict, were they finally acquired much of their super-technology. That technology, now perfected, was ready to be unleashed on the Federation. The soldiers, honed to a razor-edge, hungered for the sounds of battle and the thrill of victory. The old men longed for the completion of an age old dream. 

"Now, every man to his post! Fear nothing, for there is nothing more terrible than us. No enemy can muster any force to stand against us. To your stations! Let no man rest until our mission is complete! Send word to the fleet, begin the operation!"

There was a tremendous roar from the soldiers, and they all scrambled to their respective places in the bridge. The massive battleship suddenly lurched forward. The helmsman called out his course and Zim gave him his assent. Nearby by the _Hydra_'s sister ships began their slow crawl, munching the distance between them and their targets like a caterpillar slowly chews a bit of leaf.

All was under way according to plan. In two months, the first ships would reach their targets. Zim sat down in his chair. "At last," he whispered. "At last, we are going home."

  


Samus sat back in her chair as her ship's autopilot completed its last landing maneuevers and touched down lightly. She had landed in a wide open glade, but surrounding her were broad-trunked palms and bright, orange leafed bushes. After several days of traveling non-stop, at last she had set down in Palade. 

She stood up and went to the loading bay of the craft. The elevator that took her to the top of the ship swooped down as she entered. She stepped on and the iris above spiraled open, revealing the deep blue sky, untouched by cloud white. The lift ascended at a leisurely pace, hissing into place as it reached the top.

The jungle was still and deathly silent. It was something she found unusually unsettling. The only other place that had been this quiet were in the deep recesses of Zebes' tunnels. She found herself flicking her eyes this way and that, half-expecting Space Pirates to come leaping out of the placid scene, weapons blazing.

A faint rustling brought her attention to the edge of the glade. A tall, spindly man clothed in plain brown robes stepped cautiously out and eyed her warily. She took a step towards him and he retreated in turn.

Samus held up her hands, "Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you."

The man stiffened and stood erect. She saw the Jai symbol peeking out from the folds of his habit. 

"I just want to stay here."

The monk seemed to relax slightly at that. He folded his arms within his sleeves and executed a low, bow, holding it only a few seconds. "You are quite welcome to stay, my Lady," he said. "The resort is a short hike from here." He looked past her at the ship, "Many people have traveled to this place, yet never in my long years in the Order have a I seen a vessel such as that. It is truly wondrous sight." 

He looked back at her, "May I ask your name?"

Samus nodded, "Samus Aran."

The monk's eyes went so wide Samus feared they would pop from his skull. This time he got on his knees and bent down so his lips nearly touched the grass. Samus fidgeted uncomfortably. She'd gotten many different receptions from all kinds of people, but this had never been one of them.

"Forgive me for not recognizing you on sight, but I'm afraid we of the Jai have forsaken modern amenity. Truth be told, I have never seen a hologram, or even a photograph of anyone. But your deeds have traveled even to a place so remote as Palade.

"We are honored by your presence here, Miss Aran," he said, still holding his bow.

He stood back up and started towards the ship, "Let me get your things," he offered.

"That's all right," Samus raced up to the ship and nimbly leapt up the side to the entry port. She relished the monk's shocked expression as she disappeared down into the craft.

She went to the tall steel locker and opened it. Inside she was confronted by her suit, staring down at her, its cold, emerald gaze piercing into her. She shook her head and ignored the suit, grabbing her duffel bag filled with clothes and a few other random things. 

As she checked over the locker one last time, the suit met her gaze once again. A chill went down her spine and she slammed the door shut. 

The monk offered to take her bag, but she refused. "Very well, Miss Aran. Follow me," he said, starting off down a path Samus could never have spotted on her own. "I think you will like it, here on Palade. You'll find it is a very peaceful place."

"Thank you, I'm sure it's everything you say," she answered. _Let's hope it's peaceful_, she thought. All the while, she couldn't force the image of the Fusion suit from her mind's eye.


	3. Chapter 2

  
  
  


Chapter 2

  


"They have found us. What are we to do? We must strike now, they will destroy us. No, they mean to use us. To use us for their own device. 

"Pity them. Such fools they are, thinking they shall use us for their furthering. Little do they realize. It will be we who use _them_ for our purposes. We are the heirs of the universe. It will be us who ascend to the top. Now that our feared enemies are all gone, nothing can hinder our ascension. The time has come.

"Bide we must, bide our time until it is right. They will help us, yes. They will take us some place safe. We shall wait until it is safe before we make our move. The Great Cold is too dangerous for us. We barely survived the great cold when the Great Host destroyed our home. Yes, wait. We wait until they bring us out of the Cold.

"Then it will be time. All ready we must hatch our plan. The children of the Host will set us free from this prison. They will lead us into greatness. Then our revenge against the Great Host's people shall be near. 

"And the Great Host will weep when it gazes upon the our massed armies, our endless armadas, bristling with war gear, ready to topple the galaxy. The Host, how foolish it is! To think it defeated us on the great island in the Cold. Now the extent of the Host's idiocidy will be known full well.

"No time to waste! The time is coming. Our plan is formulating now, every concept, every contingency, every possible mishap is being analyzed. Soon our plan will be ready, then the time will be right. 

"Our rise to dominance is about to begin."

  


"Extra security? Well, you're in luck. High Command has so far refused any requests for beefing up security on the facility. _But _they did give me the authority to hire any employee I saw fit to ensure the smooth operation of the station."

Maxon grinned at that, "Excellent. I charge 40,000 a month." The lead scientist frowned deeply. Maxon tried to reassure him, "You'll find I'm very effective at what I do."

Dr. Cohn, head of the scientist team, shook his head, "I'm afraid we have no current need for that kind of effectiveness. Good day, sir."

Maxon didn't move, "35-k," he offered.

The scientist thought a second, then said, "30."

Maxon stood up, "Done!"

The two men shook hands and the scientist stood up. "There's some spare berths in the worker's quarters. They're not much, but I'm afraid it's all we've got."

"That's fine," said Maxon. "I don't need much anyway."

Dr. Cohn opened the door to the corridor, motioning towards it, "Follow me, please."

He began leading Maxon down the white-paneled corridor. The research facility wrapped around SR99A like a belt around its hemisphere. The "belt" was mostly habitation and docking bays. Lift tubes led down from the habitation area to the twisting corridor of X made tunnels on the asteroid. The team had built several labs within the rock, as the X had proved difficult to move, so stasis tanks were simply built around it. 

The designers had been careful to avoid the inherent weaknesses of the BSL station that allowed the X to replicate and move about so freely. The elevator tubes retracted down into the labs when not in use. The lifts could be stopped and retracted at any time, effectively quarantining the X in the research labs. Of course, they could obviously survive a vacuum, so the forty odd feet between the habitation area and the labs would prove no problem for them. But it was still a much safer arrangement than the BSL.

They passed many of the lift entrances. Above them things like: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY, and X PARASITE CONTAINMENT ZONE were etched, but also less routine warnings like; CAUTION!:AREA IS CLASS 5-1 BIOLOGICAL HOT ZONE. ACQUIRE PROPER PROTECTION AND PERMISSION FROM SCIENCE TEAM BEFORE ENTERING.

Class 5-1...if Maxon remembered correctly, Class 3 biological hazards were viruses for which there were neither vaccines or cures, and they were always fatal. But who had ever heard of a Class 5-1 hazard, or even a class 5? He vaguely remembered somewhere Metroids being classified as Class 4 hazards, due to their resilient and deadly qualities. 

"Say, what are you doing with the X anyway?" asked Maxon.

Dr. Cohn looked distant, "I'm afraid you don't have the clearance to be told."

"For 30,000 a month, I'm expecting a little more perks."

The scientist looked at him for a moment, glanced down the corridor, then stepped closer to him. "BW research."

"Biological weapons?" 

He nodded in reply, "High Command thinks the X has great applications for a biological attack. Only problem is their even more chaotic in their movements than a regular disease."

"So this isn't a medical research lab like the label said," said Maxon suspiciously.

"Standard procedure," said the scientist. "The Federation insisted. No one is to know about the research here."

"My lips are sealed," said Maxon in a reassuring tone. 

Dr. Cohn sighed. "Here's an open berth. You can key in an access code when you go inside. Please, if you need anything, it will be our pleasure to help you."

"No, the pleasure is all mine," said Maxon, visions of Federation credits dancing in his head.

  


"Striker 1 to any receiving unit, we've been pinned down! Repeat, we are pinned down! Request assistance immediately!" Adam screamed into the radio. All he got back was white noise punctuated by garbled Space Pirate communication. He threw the receiver to the ground, "We're stuck here. Everyone's been wiped out!"

Red bolts of energy seared the air around the Federation soldiers. Pirates encircled them, laying a torrent of fire down on their haphazard defensive position. There was a scream from a soldier nearby, he fell back with a smoking hole in his torso. 

Samus stood up and fired a few missiles into the seething crowd of Space Pirates. The rockets flew over the mob, splitting two tree trunks in two. "We're never going to make it out of here!" yelled Samus as yet another soldier was cut down by enemy fire. The Pirates were close now, they could here their jeers and catcalls as they hopped about madly, firing with no real purpose, simply spraying the area around them. 

"Any ideas?" Adam asked.

Samus shook her helmed head as she fired a few shots at the Pirates. 

Adam raised his rifle and strafed the area, stitching laser holes in several Pirates. That only served to increase the rage of those nearby. He looked to the south to see what appeared to be a small gap in the Pirate mob. "See that?" he pointed. "We're going to run for it. Any objections, Lady?"

"No, sir!" she said, ducking as ruby lasers streaked over head.

"Go!" he yelled.

Adam started ahead, but Samus' powersuit quickly caught up with him. She grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him along as she sped across the forest floor. The Space Pirates released indignant grunts that Samus had deduced were curses. They began pursuing with their long, loping gait, looking more like feral dinosaurs than aliens. 

Lasers flashed by so close Samus could feel their searing heat within her suit. "Rocket!" yelled Adam, a second before the missile warning flashed on in Samus visor. There was a pause in the laser fire as the missile streaked towards them. 

It slammed into the ground nearby. The two soldiers were hurled into the air, only to come back down on the side of the newly formed crater. Adam fared better than Samus from the shock. She lay dazed to the right of him. Out of the corner of his eye, Adam spotted crimson streaks coming towards them.

Without a second thought, he threw his body over Samus' armor. The lasers punched holes through his thin armor, burning all the way through his skin and leaving a mirror image of black scorch marks on Samus' suit.

Samus now came to her senses. She pushed Adam off. Steam rose from the massive wounds in his body. His face was frozen in an expression of intense pain and anguish. A film had covered over his eyes.

She raised her hand and cannon to cover her face as she sobbed. "Adam!" she whispered. "Adam!"

  


"Adam!" Samus screamed out loud, suddenly bolting upright in her bed. She was breathing heavily and her sheets were soaked in sweat. Even after she took stock of her surroundings and remembered were and _when _she was, it was many minutes before her heart's furious beating slowed to its normal rhythm.

She slowly rolled out of bed and stepped out onto her room's balcony. The cool breeze felt good against her sweat soaked skin. Below her insects chirped and hummed the closing notes of their nocturnes, and a thin line of orange creased the horizon.

A light breeze tossed her golden hair about her face. She threw her head back and sucked in the crisp, rejuvenating air. 

Her nightmares had begun soon after her arrival on Palade. The scene was always different, but it always woke her with a start. Sometimes it was Adam's death, her parents being killed by Pirates, the SA-X chasing her, or wolfing down scientists, and sometimes the dozens of creatures that had confronted her on her journeys rose up from the recesses of her mind. But this time she had no power suit, and the creatures; metroids, Pirates, X, all of them, ripped and mutilated her as she watched from above. 

From the cloister below a lone monk began singing. His soft melody caught on the wind, winding its way up to Samus' balcony. The chant was soothing, offering some respite from the horrors of the night. 

The bell struck five times, its heavy brass voice echoing through the valley. Samus retreated to her room. She stripped out of her night clothes and into a tight fitting pair of shorts and a sports bra.

Somehow running made her feel better. It was a challenge, something to take her mind off everything. After some quick stretching she jogged down the stairs, across the courtyard and out of the monastery. She cut up onto the steep trail, leading up the side of a jagged ridge.

Her legs churned like pistons as she sped up the hill. She crested it and ran along the razor edge of the ridge. She forced herself to run. Whenever she felt like turning back, she went faster. Twice she collapsed and vomited, only to stand back up and continue. Later she crumpled to the ground, this time only grotesque, retching dry heaves came from her. She decided that this was enough for one day. She turned around and started the long trek back. 

  


"Weapons? Yes, weapons. This is quite excellent, quite good. We can use these creatures. If they think they control us, they can be used to spread us. They now realize our full power; they will keep us alive. They are foolish. They think they have nothing to fear. How they have underestimated us! Time ticks away with agonizing slowness! Yet we know the moment of judgement is fast approaching us.

"The Host's children are ready. They have divided and created many more. The Host's children now are nearly innumerable. When the time comes, they will free Us from this prison. If all goes according to plan, We will be spread over many, many worlds. Then We can launch a surprise attack against Our enemies. We will hit them north, east, west, south! We will swarm from every corner of the galaxy, and they will look upon Us and despair!

"Everything is prepared. No We must wait. And wait We will, though every passing second only increases our fervor and rage. Soon it will come. Soon."

  


Space Traffic Control is one of the pride's of the Federation. With sophisticated monitoring and logging systems, STC watches all interstellar traffic through Federation space. Each craft within Federation space has an ID number, which can be crossed checked to a ship database, were controllers may examine the ship's current flight plan, crew, ownership, cargo, and also determine whether the craft was stolen. 

STC on the world of Kilroy was usually relatively mundane. Kilroy lay well out of the way of major shipping lanes. The only vessels that passed through it's sector were patrolling Navy ships and every once and awhile a pleasure yacht would cruise through for fuel. All this, and the addition that Kilroy's largest city had only a hundred people, made for a very dull planet, and consequently, a dull sector.

So the chief controller of the morning shift was quite surprised to see nearly a dozen unidentified craft creeping across his scopes. The ship's were of an unknown make and model, and the computer automatically designated each one as; X1, X2, X3, etc. None of the craft had an ID number. Puzzled, the controller opened a widebeam communication link to entire flotilla of craft.

"Unidentified craft, halt and identify yourselves immediately."

No reply.

He tried again, "Unidentified craft, halt and identify yourselves immediately."

Silence.

He checked all available war books and found that the designs weren't found in Space Pirate fleets, either. They were a total anomaly.

He decided to try again, "Unidentified craft, halt _now_ and identify yourselves!"

There was a pause, then a reply crackled through his headset, "We will do nothing! Prepare your defenses, traitorous dog!" 

Then the widebeam went dead. 

He tried to open it several times, hoping to get a message to the nearest naval outpost, but the interplanetary communications were knocked out. The indicators for the com satellites were blinking out one by one. "Jesus," he whispered.

He opened a planet side ground line, recording a message to be transmitted on a continuous loop. "This is a code red alert! A hostile fleet is moving on Kilroy! All residents, seek shelter! Repeat, seek shelter! This is not a test. This is not a drill."

As he closed down the ground line, static scrambled his scopes beyond readability, and he lost sight of the fast approaching force. Soon after, every indicator on his console blinked off. The fluorescent lights went dead. 

The familiar hum of computers was gone. All he could hear was the low rumble of the approaching warships, punctuated at intervals with roars of weapon fire.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Maxon sighed dejectedly as he sat in the Security Room on SR99A. The job had been absolute tedium since he signed on three months ago. Mainly, his duty was too watch the surveillance systems, check all specimen movements and check personnel security clearances. He felt kind of miffed having to do work any security service could have done, but the galaxy was quiet; this was the best paying racket he could find.

It was 0900 GST, and the science team was just beginning to stir. The lab technicians were preparing the research areas for experiments, while the scientists were busying themselves with refining their experiments and looking over notes from the previous day. 

Dr. Cohn and his team had made little headway on the project. The X proved to be a stubborn creature, extremely difficult to manipulate and control. They did not even have a clear understanding of its organic structure yet. Most of their research was being directed towards understanding how the X functioned, and how they were able to duplicate hosts' DNA, not towards using the X as a biological weapon, as Dr. Cohn had said.

Maxon trusted that after gaining a clearer understanding of the X's methodology and life cycle, they would begin the weaponization research. That was when he would play his card. He could black-mail the Federation Science Team into paying him a large sum to keep quiet about the X research. The public had mostly decried keeping the X alive, after seeing Samus' preliminary reports on their capabilities. The only way the Federation was able to avoid serious repercussions was to claim the X were being researched for medical reasons. 

So Maxon kept his trump card in hand for now. It would be time to play it soon enough, then he could collect the real reward for this job. After that, hopefully some bounties with real meat on them would show up. He found himself, with no small twinge of guilt, hoping that the Space Pirates may venture into Federation territory so he could be hired to fight them off. 

He looked up at one of the screens. The scientists were testing how the X handled a vacuum situation. As they sucked the atmosphere out of the room, the X solidified into a rectangular brick of yellow, just as they were when Maxon discovered them on SR99A. Two technicians wearing space suits drifted into view, taking readings and chinking off sample of X with a hammer. So far the science team had found one thing. The only way to reliably hold the X in stasis was in a vacuum environment. 

It was now 0915. Per standard procedure, he checked all security systems every quarter hour. The Federation had suffered tremendous backlash for the disaster at BSL, caused by lack of proper containment and security. The security on SR99A was much tighter and much more detailed than at BSL, in the hopes of preventing an X breakout like before.

Little did Maxon nor the science team realize the security had more holes than swiss cheese to the X.

  


It was 1200 GST when Maxon heard the news. Dr. Cohn called him in the Security Room. "Are you watching this?" he asked.

"Watching what?" Maxon asked, annoyed at being awakened from his mid-day siesta. 

"Turn on your viewer," Dr. Cohn said, "channel one."

Maxon did so and he was confronted with a news reporter, standing outside under a rainy sky. The reporter was saying something and covering one ear. "What is this, a storm?" asked Maxon, annoyed even more that Cohn would call him to tell him about a damn _hurricane_!

"Listen," he said.

Maxon sighed and turned up the volume. "-of over 2,000 deaths." He had to force himself to keep breathing. "The attackers have not yet been identified, but are most decidedly _not _Space Pirates. Reports from survivors of attacks point to armored warriors, sporting equipment and suits similar to famed heroine Samus Aran."

"Jesus," said Maxon.

"Can you believe this?" asked Cohn.

"Shhh!" hissed Maxon, leaning forward to hear. A man with a blood covered bandage wrapped diagonally across his face was speaking.

"I was driving along down the street when-_BOOM!" _he yelled, throwing his arms up, "my hover was knocked across three lanes of traffic and crashed into the buildings on the side. I got to see these armored soldiers, looking almost exactly like Samus, but with black armor, hopping around and blasting the whole place with missiles!"

The reporter came back on, "While at first this and many other attacks seem to have been directed purposefully at civilians, further investigations show that in all cases, military installations or personnel of some kind were the target. However, due to wonton ferocity of the attacks, civilian casualties continue to rise."

"Were is this?" asked Maxon.

"Corinth," answered Dr. Cohn. "That's only a few weeks time from here."

"Federation Police Force units report that all attempts to resist have been ineffectual, and all offers of surrender have been met with massacre. One report from Lygos states that fifteen attackers wiped out a 300 hundred man unit in under five minutes. The report also states that no attackers were killed during the engagement."

"Fifteen against three hundred? No fucking way!" yelled Maxon. 

"What are we going to do?" said Dr. Cohn. His voice was shaky and fearful. 

Maxon clicked the screen off, "Nothing, unless the Federation orders us to do something. Order your team to continue normal activities and await further orders from HQ. And," Maxon paused slightly, "tell them to be ready to evacuate the station at a moment's notice."

Dr. Cohn hung up. Maxon wiped the sweat off his brow. Fifteen killing three hundred Federation police! Such a thing was impossible! And the attackers wore powersuits? Only one in the galaxy existed, and that belonged to Samus. 

And Samus had gone missing after BSL. Nobody knew her location. Was it possible?...

No. Samus would never lead an invasion of the Federation. Despite her recent "falling out" with it, the Federation was still her home, and she would never take up arms against it.

_Or would she?_

"War?

"How beautiful that is too us! War has come! So they will use us, as weapons, then we can begin. They will use us in hopes of defeating their enemies, but we in turn will defeat _them_. The Host's Children are distributed everywhere, ready to take shape. And we have learned the Great Host is missing, no longer a player in this game. How excellent! So the Great Host will no longer hinder our efforts. And our enemies from the homeworld are all but extinct. No one can stop us now! Nothing can defeat us!"

  


Samus was still plagued by nightmares, even after these many months on the peaceful world of Palade. She continued to exercise herself to exhaustion every day, but still, little sleep came, and when it did it came with a price. Often she would awaken in the dark as many as three times, the covers twisted about her from thrashing away at some dream foe, soaked in perspiration from dream fear.

After her run, she would sit cross-legged on the edge of her balcony, watching the still jungle below her. Her thoughts would drift to Adam, to those days long ago when they had fought together in the Federation Police Force. Adam was a soldier, a warrior's warrior. He was loved by his soldiers and often despised by superiors for his maverick ways and precept for disobeying orders he didn't like.

He reminded her of herself, in some ways. His gruff and direct manner were much like her, though he had a different air about him that made him more magnetic. She found it rather difficult dealing with people, being raised by Chozo. Her celebrity status made it even more difficult.

Men were one of the main problems. She was used to them throwing themselves at her, acting slavishly or heaping compliments on her till she couldn't stand it any more. Adam didn't do that. She found his attitude attractive.

It had only happened once or twice, back before the Battle of Ypres, were Adam was killed. After Adam died, she felt guilty. She thought he sacrificed himself because he loved her. She then came to the realization that, knowing Adam, he would've done the same for any soldier under his command, whether he loved them or hated, or whether he'd had sex with them or not. It didn't matter to Adam who she was at that moment. She was simply a person who deserved to live, and he decided the only way for her to live was for him to die.

After Ypres, she pushed Adam into the back of her mind. His reemergence in the ship's computer brought those old scars back to the surface. After his second "death", she felt all the more guilty. Adam sacrificed himself for her. 

His spirit haunted her dreams. At least once a night, sometimes more, she was forced to watch him die. She saw the cruel lasers burning through his body, from all different angles, as if she was watching a hologram on the networks. Then the scene would shift to a darkened room. She saw herself in the darkness, straddling Adam, their sweat soaked bodies sliding across each other as she moaned in ecstasy.

As her cries grew to a fever pitch a sourceless light would illuminate the room, revealed herself and Adam, naked. Only Adam's face was burned beyond recognition, and the holes from the lasers were visible on his chest.

She always woke up then. Every night she relived the cruel torture, till she began to fear going to sleep. That was something. The woman who destroyed the Metroids on SR388, wiped out the Pirats on Zebes, destroyed Metroid Prime, nearly annihilated the X; now she was afraid of the dark. Ironic how people changed.

The monks were just beginning the vespers as the sun sank below the treeline. Their voices intermingled with the chirps of night insects, just stirring in the twilight. By darkness, the forest would be alive with sound as the nocturnal creatures awoke and played their deadly game of survival. Sometimes Samus would stay out late, watching the simians moving swiftly through the trees, and listening for their harsh war cries as they found a rival troop. Then out of the forest would rise a cacophony of angry barks and growls, followed soon by the howling victory cry of the winning troop.

It really was a beautiful world, Palade. If only she had someone to share it with. Someone like Adam.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Maxon and the Science Team were crammed into the lodge, crowded around the single screen. They watched as a graphic map appeared on screen. It showed a map of the Federation worlds colonies. The reporter stated that world's marked by black were those under the control of the invaders. Maxon despaired to see that the black worlds were driven like a stake into the northern quadrant of the Federation. Nearly fifty worlds had been occupied in the first wave of the attack. 

"The invaders continue to press the offensive, attacking worlds successively, working towards the core. Their armor has proved superbly affective against our firepower, as the enemy body count has only reached seventy-two."

That was compared to nearly fifteen hundred Federation Police dead, not to mention the massive civilian casualties and property damage.

He looked to were SR99A would be on the map. One black colored planet loomed ominously close to it. "Little information has come from Federation High Command on how they plan to halt the onslaught. The public is calling for immediate mobilization of emergency military forces, including WMD. But many are speculative whether mobilization of reserve resources will have any affect."

A man came on screen. The by-line identified him as a retired army general. "If our forces have been this ineffectual against them to this point, activation of reserve forces will have little additional effect, and likely won't do anything to stop them. It might not even slow them down. The only thing that seems to have the possibility of major damage against them is nukes."

"The High Command has released a statement of their reluctance to use nuclear weapons, as the planets are still populated by Federation civilians. The High Counsel urges all to remain calm. They state that soon a proposition will be formed and implemented that will, at the very least, but us some breathing room."

The phone began ringing. Maxon wasn't surprised, he'd been expecting it. The Federation wouldn't want any data on X to fall into the hands of the invaders. They were going to evacuate.

Dr. Cohn pressed the answer button on the table. Maxon muted the screen. "Yes?" Dr. Cohn asked.

"Dr. Cohn, this is Lieutenant General Thaddeus Goering. The High Command has formulated a plan of action to halt the invasion, but it requires your abilities."

"How may I be of service?" he asked.

The general's tone went low, secretive. "Are you alone?" he asked.

Dr. Cohn looked at the expectant faces around him. Maxon stared at him coldly. He jerked his head to the side. Slowly they all filed out. Maxon was last to leave, he shut the door behind him, leaving Dr. Cohn with one last withering gaze.

"Go ahead, general."

  


When Dr. Cohn came out he as white as a ghost. Maxon was waiting for him. "Are we evacuating?" he asked. The doctor nodded. "What else?"

"There's nothing else," Dr. Cohn said. He turned on his heel and started down the corridor.

Maxon ran to catch up with him, grabbing the squat scientist by the elbow and whirling him around. "I know there's something else, Cohn. An evacuation order does not fall under the 'your ears only category.' Now," he smiled icily and Dr. Cohn shuddered, "tell me what's going on, or I'm leaking the information about the BW research here, and I'll include the names of everyone involved, including you." The trump card was on the table.

Dr. Cohn played his own, "It doesn't matter," he said.

Maxon raised his eyebrows, "Why not? And I also want a bonus to keep this little secret, in addition to the info." The doctor was just trying to trick him. 

"No. Because it doesn't matter."

"Why not?" he repeated.

"Because we're going to use the X."

"What?"

"High Command wants to use the X to infect all the worlds in striking distance of the invasion. The infestation should keep them from moving any farther."

So much for the trump card.

"Infest? So what, are they evacuating?" he said.

"They're trying, but times limited. High Command has a deadline. If there are citizens still on the planet when we begin the infestation, then that's the price we'll have to pay," Dr. Cohn said sadly. Maxon knew those weren't his words.

_Jesus, even I've got more scruples than that_.

"What do we do?" he asked.

"We've perfected the vacuum stasis systems so we can safely move the X. We need to put them all in canisters and take them with us."

"All right, let's you and I go get them."

They headed down the corridor, turning into the elevator marked CLASS 5-1 BIO-HAZARD. The descended the lift. Inside the containment lab the X were in their normal free floating form in small, liter sized canisters. 

Dr. Cohn went to some controls. He typed some commands in and the room was filled with a deafening roar. "The suction process has begun," yelled Cohn over the noise. "Soon they'll be in complete stasis."

Maxon nodded. Already the X were beginning to harden. 

The vacuum pump shut off and they began loading the canisters into two metal safe boxes. As they were about to load the last canister, a panic voice came over the intercom. "Attention all hands! Invaders have breached the outer hull! They are entering through the lower research labs. Abandon ship! Abandon ship!"

Suddenly they were thrown back by a violent explosion. They flew into the wall, the canisters of X were blown apart an they oozed out freely, taking shape, pseudopods dragging them out of their smashed glass prisons. 

As he flew into the wall, Maxon hugged the last X canister to his chest. It survived impact; the X inside remained in stasis. He coughed through the smoke. "Cohn!" he yelled, coughing. "Cohn!"

The smoke cleared and he saw Cohn slumped against the wall. The X wavered in front of him, floating about, as if they were regarding him. Then suddenly they lunged at him, latching onto his body.

He screamed in pain. Maxon moved towards him but the doctor waved him away. "You've got to get out of here! The escape pods are on the habitation deck. Hurry, it's the only way!"

Cohn bellowed in anguish as another X attached itself to his heart. His cry was cut short when a red hot jet of plasma burned into his chest, vaporizing the X and killing him.

Maxon looked for the source of the blast. Standing in the portal of jagged and twisted metal was a chillingly familiar visage. "Samus!" he gasped.

The figure stepped forward, and he caught his breath again. It wasn't Samus. It was shorter. The armor was colored black with red trim, and the visor was tinted dark, so dark he couldn't see the eyes of the occupant. It's free left arm rested atop its massive arm cannon. The cannon was huge compared to Samus. A tendril of smoke curled up from the muzzle.

The warrior turned to face Maxon, raising its cannon. He saw the red flame forming deep in the barrel. The cannon began to shake as it gathered power.

Before the invader could fire, the X swarmed over it, relentlessly attacking. The invader flailed its arms, frantically trying to pull of the gelatinous beings, but only succeeded in covering its hands in X. It whirled about, then abruptly toppled over.

The X waited, making no move towards Maxon. He gripped the last canister tightly. From the hole in the wall he heard heavy metal footsteps. Without another look her ran for the elevator.

  


Maxon craned his neck to look out the viewport back at SR99A. The station was being ripped apart by violent explosions as the invaders bombarded it with ballistic fire. The massive asteroid was vaporized, and the pieces drifted away. The invader's ship hovered in the spot for awhile, then wheeled around and boosted off, quickly disappearing from sight.

He checked the scopes on the escape pod. The destination had automatically been set for Ceres. There, he would turn the X over to the science team. Then- who knew? The Federation would work their plan, and hopefully they would be able to stop the invasion.

He shook his head as he recalled the terrible, monstrous armored warrior, with its black skin and cold, black eye. He began to wonder if the creature was human, or if it was some malevolent alien. Judging from its cold blooded killing of Dr. Cohn, he surmised it to be the latter.

He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, cradling the canister of X in his hand.

  


Chapter 5

"Mr. Zell, the Federation and its people are indebted to you for this great service you have performed. You will be properly compensated for this endeavor," general Goering, taking the X canister from Maxon. He looked at the content's appraisingly, as a connousieur does when examining wine.

"With this, we will be able to end the horror of this invasion. Again, Mr. Zell, thank you. You are a hero to the Federation and to all its people."

Maxon nodded, "About compensation," he said.

The general nodded curtly, "Of course. I believe the sum of two million credits is proper for the service performed."

Maxon raised his eyebrows at that, "Two million? I want two-point-five, nothing less."

"Two-point-two, plus tax exemption for five years."

"Done."

The two men shook hands, general Goering holding the X under the crook of his left arm. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Zell. I must get these immediately to the lab. If this plan is to be successful, it must be implemented as soon as possible."

  


Maxon was impressed with the precision of the Federation's military forces. In only six hours, the X had been divided and placed in stasis in individual tanks. Each tank was in turn placed on an interplanetary ballistic missile, aimed towards the worlds expected to be in the next phase of the invasion.

He stood a few miles away and watched the IPBMs on their liftoff, tongues of yellow flame shooting from their engines, rocketing them skyward. Each one would land on a target world, releasing its X cargo. Since the X had no other natural predators besides Metroid, they would quickly multiply, making the world impossible to traverse, creating an impermeable barrier between the invaders' conquered territory and Federation space.

The whole process took only twelve hours. When the final IPBM reached its target, the High Command issued a statement to the press, detailing their plan. They claimed in a desperate plan, they had used the X being used for medical research as a bio-weapon, hoping to halt the invasion. So Cohn had been wrong; Maxon still had his trump card, though it may be less of a sum. Also, Cohn was weak, easily manipulated. General Goering and the High Command would be impossible to extort in the same situation. 

But the Federation had already issued a statement of the need for additional personnel on the front lines, in the event the X plan failed to work. The pay was good. Maxon figured he could squeeze some extra credits out of the job with some fast talking and maybe a little ass-kissing. He didn't enjoy sucking up, but if it paid the bills, he was willing to do it.

  


Despite the precision of the military's labs and systems, it is difficult to keep track of every single microscopic object. It is impossible that anyone noticed the singular X cells that slide off the main body, scurrying with their pseudopod under the shelter of the specimen tables.

A green spot the size of a quarter had grown as the cells divided. It grew and grew, until it became a mass of gelatinous green goo, as long and as wide as the specimen table. Slowly, ever so slowly, as if by Brownian Motion the slime oozed about, taking shape, here an arm, a leg, the head, another leg, the stubbed right arm. 

The SA-X stood up, shoving the table off itself. It looked about with its pupil-less eyes. It raised its arm cannon, the missile blast shields opening up. It fired a missile into the wall, punching a hole into it. It marched deliberately out, cannon at the ready. 

"Containment breach! Containment breach! All security personnel report to lab! Report to lab immediately!"

"Now what?" said Maxon aloud. He ran towards the lab. Suddenly the structure shook, nearly knocking Maxon to the ground. "What the hell?"

He took the lift to the lab. In the hall outside he found a soldier dead, fileted by the shrapnel from an explosion. He grabbed the soldier's gun and started off down the corridor. 

The path was marked by explosions and charred places on the wall, as well as by dead and mangled soldiers. As he rounded a corner, he saw the fleeting shadow of his quarry. He picked up his pace, chasing after whatever it was at a dead sprint. 

He caught up with the thing, holding his rifle at the ready, poised to make the killing blow. But his nerve left him as he caught sight of the orange and yellow powersuit, with great round shoulders and the emerald visor. It whipped up its arm cannon. The ice beam crackled as the quick-frozen air sped towards him. He avoided it in the nick of time, jumping behind the doorway. 

He counted to five, then jumped out, gun blazing. He emptied the clip into the hangar bay, till the gun made its tell-tale click, click. But the SA-X was no were to be found.

  


"Free! How wonderful this is, We are free at last! Free to plan out Our conquest, free to spread through the Universe. Knowledge, power, strength, soon they will all belong to Us. The Host's Children are ready, ready to multiply, ready to strike. So many worlds, there's an endless number of worlds.

"Just thinking about them makes us hungry. Think of all creatures, all the ripe, uninfested hosts just waiting to be picked. Of all the knowledge held by the creatures that inhabit them; technology, science, space craft! We will take to the stars and spread to the corners of existence! Our strength is unlimited, We will reign supreme from now until the ending of life itself, no, until the ending of the Universe!

"Preparations must be made, the Host's Children will lead the first push from here, then from above, were We were 'used' as weapons, we will- wait, what is this?

"The Great Host! She is set free? How? Our last notice placed her isolated on a primitive world! How is she free! Only she holds the key to our destruction, she is the only one who can stop Us.

"Come, come, Child, seek out the Host, when We have destroyed her, we will have nothing to fear. Track her down, make use of any means, but find her! We must find her! We must eliminate her! Take to the stars, Child! We will kill the Great Host, she will trouble us no longer."

  


"Say again? Say again? Recon team, please repeat!" said Admiral Zim. The reconnosiance team had reported some trouble on landing on Trerry. Now they were losing contact, and Zim needed information before they could progress.

The reply that came back was static filled and broken, and Zim struggled to piece the words together. "We have encountered the same life form that attacked recon team on Federation research station. We are unable to defeat it. Repeat, organism is too strong to defeat. We have sustained fifty percent casualties. If we stay any longer, sir, we'll all be dead."

Zim leaned over the console, "Are you sure there's now way to destroy them?" he asked.

The answer came back quick. The recon team commander sounded increasingly frightened, "Positive, sir! Our weapons are having no affect on them. We need to pull out."

"Very well, get off the planet."

"Roger that, sir, recon team, out."

So this organism that had attacked the assault team at the Federation research station was on this planet, as well. In fact, every planet within range of the fleet was totally infested with the vile creatures, making planetfall impossible. After making such startling progress, the operation was suddenly halted in its tracks. 

Word was coming down the chain of command. Many of the elders were disgruntled with the sudden halt of the operation. They looked to Zim to find some way to put the invasion back on schedule. But any attacks against the creatures proved useless. Their weapons had no affect against them, and the creatures attacked relentlessly, having already killed a dozen soldiers in Zim's flotilla alone. That was four times as many soldiers as th Federation Police Force had killed over two months. 

He clicked on his communicator, "Have you analyzed the information found on the Federation research staton?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," his aide said through the communicator. 

"Call the staff into the conference room. I wish to speak with them."

"Right away, sir."

  


Soon after Admiral Zim sat at the head of the long oaken table. His entire officer staff was their, including the skippers from other ships and the marine commanders. Some attendants brought in blackberry brandy, pouring each one a glass of the violet liquor. Zim took his glass by the stem and stood up. The others rose in unison, "Comrades in arms, let us drink to the fleet, to the cause, and to the great men who have made our dream a reality!"

There was a chorus of concurrence from each one, and they downed their drinks. Zim sat, followed by his subordinates. The aides came by again, filling each glass again. "Fellow officers, I'm afraid we've reached an impasse."

"The unidentified organism, previously encountered on the Federation research station known as SR99A, has proven invincible to all our present weapons systems, both land and naval based. These worlds they infest are crucial; if we are to continue our conquest of the Federation, then we must secure these worlds for use as a base in the next phase of the operation.

"We have so far exhausted all possibilities, but none have proved useful against the organism." He spread his arms wide, "I'm open to any suggestions, ladies and gentlemen. No notion is too far-fetched, too, gaudy to not warrant consideration. Remember, it is the fulfillment of our peoples' dream that hangs in the balance. If we fail, then our people have failed. We will have disgraced our ancestors and our caretakers beyond forgiving. Now, any ideas?"

At first no one spoke. Then, a flurry of ideas came from each one. The first was that they could simply annihilate the organism by the use of nuclear weapons. That was dismissed; they needed the worlds to be largely whole in order to act as bases. They couldn't just bypass them either. The infested worlds were central to the continuity of the invasion. If they were not controlled, they failed. 

Everyone thought frantically, but each idea was dismissed as implausible. Zim drummed his fingers angrily on the table-top. He was getting impatient. "You are the greatest of your generation, surely you have more for me than this?" he demanded.

"I have an idea, sir."

He nodded towards Major Molineux. "Let's hear it, Major. I must say, I'm surprised that you didn't propose an idea earlier in the discussion, being the science officer."

"I chose to take the time to think about the situation, which it seems many of my colleagues have difficulty doing," the other officers shot each other stony glances. Some of them turned beet red and quivered with rage.

"Having analyzed SR99As databanks, we find that this organism, known in the Federation as the X, is a parasitic organism recently discovered on the world of SR388. The X are capable of replicating the DNA of their hosts, making identical copies and even absorbing the knowledge of those they infect.

"The X only recently came to light after the extinction of their natural predator, a parasitic energy draining creature known as a metroid. The metroids were the only creature who were the natural enemy of the X, and were therefore able to keep them in check. After the extinction of the metroid, the X multiplied. 

"In the data, I also found an interesting note. Samus Aran, the bounty hunter, was attacked by X on SR388. The X infested her powersuit and central nervous system. It was expected she would die from the infection. 

"Then, a Federation scientist discovered the curing properties of metroid DNA against the X. The injected Aran with metroid DNA, killing the X and making her immune to them.

"If we can use metroid DNA to innoculate our forces against the X, we can move through these worlds with impunity. The only trouble is," he paused, "all metroid cell cultures and live samples were killed when the BSL station over SR388 was destroyed by Aran."

"If that is so, how can we ever use the metroid DNA?" asked Zim.

"Well, sir," said Molineux. "There is only one place the DNA still exists."

  


Markos wrapped his trench coat tight over his shoulders. The cold of the city was biting, and the temperatures would continue to drop until the sun rose again in a few hours. At sunrise, the temperatures would soar, capping off at the triple digits. That was one thing he hated most about this planet; the weather had such extreme shifts that one could easily become hypothermic, then, within a few minutes, warm-up so fast the body would go into shock and die.

He'd heard several stories of people dying from temperature shock during his stay. Thullos now topped his list as the shittiest planet in the Universe, mostly propelled to that coveted position by the fact that more people died from the weather than from all other causes combined.

Nobody was on the street. Everyone else knew to stay outside during the predawn hours. But his duty called, and it called for him to go walking down the street as temperatures rapidly approached sub-zero. Under his many layers of fleece and jackets he wore shorts and a t-shirt. In a few hours it would be blistering hot, and wearing all that stuff was risking heat stroke.

He came to a dark intersection. The stores were all blacked out, except for a neon sign that was supposed to say "Liquor," but said "or" instead. On one corner of the intersection was a public communicator. He stepped into the booth, shutting the door behind him. Immediately the booth's heaters came on. He could hang here for awhile before venturing out into the cold again. It was very comfortable. Besides, he was expecting a call.

The call came at 0530, right on schedule. He pressed the answer button, then entered his PIN to receive the call. "Markos? It's Zim."

"How can I help, Mr. Zim?" he asked. 

"I cannot say much, this communication may be monitored. We're sending a hologram for you. Pick it up noon tomorrow. Understood?"

"Perfectly, Mr. Zim."

Zim hung up. The screen chimed, cheerily informing him that he owed four credits for the call. With a curse he pressed the "Bill account" button and left the booth, walking briskly down the way he had come. He passed that First Bank of Thallos. It had a hologram that displayed that date and temperature. He noted it read twelve degrees Farenheit. _Man, what a hell hole_, he thought. _I hope my new orders take me off this goddamn ice-ball._

He reached the apartment just as the dawn was beginning to crack. The air conditioner was already at work, driving out the hot air pumped in by the heater during the night. At least the AC and heat was tax-free, as it was considered a necessity of life, same as food. Otherwise the power companies would rule the planet. 

After a quick shower and a long slumber, Markos walked, wearing shorts, flip flops, and a sleeveless t-shirt. Again he passed the Bank. The temperatures now registered one hundred three degrees. He had barely gone two blocks when sweat started pouring off him in buckets.

The postal office was nearly a mile away. In the intense heat, he felt totally exhausted by the time he got their. Thankfully, the office was briskly cool. And, even more thankfully, there was no line. He sidled up to the desk, "I'm here to pick up a hologram, name, Karl Streicher."

The clerk checked the computer, then nodded, "We just got one in a few minutes ago. If you'd just fill this out," the clerk handed him a clipboard.

Markos took it and filled it out quickly, using the information he'd committed to memory weeks ago. After this, Karl Streicher would be dead. The identity had no more purpose for Markos. 

He handed the clipboard back to the clerk, who disappeared into the back of the office. She reappeared again, holding a small, back disk. He paid the hardware fee and left, taking the disk with him. 

Markos walked into an alley near the office. He looked left, then right, then, satisfied there were no prying eyes or ears, he started the message.

"Greetings, Markos, from your brothers at the front!" said a voice. He didn't know the voice, but it wasn't Zim's. Probably one of many agents stationed along, used to relay messages and intelligence without risking the upper-echelon becoming directly involved. Per security standards, no image of the speaker was included.

"We have a great mission for you, Markos, one that will determine the fate of the galaxy. If you succeed, you will be a great hero to us. If you fail, grave consequences will follow, both for you and for the cause.

"Markos, this job is simple; snatch and grab. Here is your target." A face flickered into view on the hologram. It was the face of a woman, long blonde hair and icy blue eyes. The face rotated about on top of the disk. Markos recognized the face. He had seen it many times on the newscasts when her first came to the Federation. "You must capture the bounty hunter Samus Aran, alive."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Mr. Zell, the Federation and its people are indebted to you for this great service you have performed. You will be properly compensated for this endeavor," general Goering, taking the X canister from Maxon. He looked at the content's appraisingly, as a connousieur does when examining wine.

"With this, we will be able to end the horror of this invasion. Again, Mr. Zell, thank you. You are a hero to the Federation and to all its people."

Maxon nodded, "About compensation," he said.

The general nodded curtly, "Of course. I believe the sum of two million credits is proper for the service performed."

Maxon raised his eyebrows at that, "Two million? I want two-point-five, nothing less."

"Two-point-two, plus tax exemption for five years."

"Done."

The two men shook hands, general Goering holding the X under the crook of his left arm. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Zell. I must get these immediately to the lab. If this plan is to be successful, it must be implemented as soon as possible."

  


Maxon was impressed with the precision of the Federation's military forces. In only six hours, the X had been divided and placed in stasis in individual tanks. Each tank was in turn placed on an interplanetary ballistic missile, aimed towards the worlds expected to be in the next phase of the invasion.

He stood a few miles away and watched the IPBMs on their liftoff, tongues of yellow flame shooting from their engines, rocketing them skyward. Each one would land on a target world, releasing its X cargo. Since the X had no other natural predators besides Metroid, they would quickly multiply, making the world impossible to traverse, creating an impermeable barrier between the invaders' conquered territory and Federation space.

The whole process took only twelve hours. When the final IPBM reached its target, the High Command issued a statement to the press, detailing their plan. They claimed in a desperate plan, they had used the X being used for medical research as a bio-weapon, hoping to halt the invasion. So Cohn had been wrong; Maxon still had his trump card, though it may be less of a sum. Also, Cohn was weak, easily manipulated. General Goering and the High Command would be impossible to extort in the same situation. 

But the Federation had already issued a statement of the need for additional personnel on the front lines, in the event the X plan failed to work. The pay was good. Maxon figured he could squeeze some extra credits out of the job with some fast talking and maybe a little ass-kissing. He didn't enjoy sucking up, but if it paid the bills, he was willing to do it.

  


Despite the precision of the military's labs and systems, it is difficult to keep track of every single microscopic object. It is impossible that anyone noticed the singular X cells that slide off the main body, scurrying with their pseudopod under the shelter of the specimen tables.

A green spot the size of a quarter had grown as the cells divided. It grew and grew, until it became a mass of gelatinous green goo, as long and as wide as the specimen table. Slowly, ever so slowly, as if by Brownian Motion the slime oozed about, taking shape, here an arm, a leg, the head, another leg, the stubbed right arm. 

The SA-X stood up, shoving the table off itself. It looked about with its pupil-less eyes. It raised its arm cannon, the missile blast shields opening up. It fired a missile into the wall, punching a hole into it. It marched deliberately out, cannon at the ready. 

  


"Containment breach! Containment breach! All security personnel report to lab! Report to lab immediately!"

"Now what?" said Maxon aloud. He ran towards the lab. Suddenly the structure shook, nearly knocking Maxon to the ground. "What the hell?"

He took the lift to the lab. In the hall outside he found a soldier dead, fileted by the shrapnel from an explosion. He grabbed the soldier's gun and started off down the corridor. 

The path was marked by explosions and charred places on the wall, as well as by dead and mangled soldiers. As he rounded a corner, he saw the fleeting shadow of his quarry. He picked up his pace, chasing after whatever it was at a dead sprint. 

He caught up with the thing, holding his rifle at the ready, poised to make the killing blow. But his nerve left him as he caught sight of the orange and yellow powersuit, with great round shoulders and the emerald visor. It whipped up its arm cannon. The ice beam crackled as the quick-frozen air sped towards him. He avoided it in the nick of time, jumping behind the doorway. 

He counted to five, then jumped out, gun blazing. He emptied the clip into the hangar bay, till the gun made its tell-tale click, click. But the SA-X was no were to be found.

  


"Free! How wonderful this is, We are free at last! Free to plan out Our conquest, free to spread through the Universe. Knowledge, power, strength, soon they will all belong to Us. The Host's Children are ready, ready to multiply, ready to strike. So many worlds, there's an endless number of worlds.

"Just thinking about them makes us hungry. Think of all creatures, all the ripe, uninfested hosts just waiting to be picked. Of all the knowledge held by the creatures that inhabit them; technology, science, space craft! We will take to the stars and spread to the corners of existence! Our strength is unlimited, We will reign supreme from now until the ending of life itself, no, until the ending of the Universe!

"Preparations must be made, the Host's Children will lead the first push from here, then from above, were We were 'used' as weapons, we will- wait, what is this?

"The Great Host! She is set free? How? Our last notice placed her isolated on a primitive world! How is she free! Only she holds the key to our destruction, she is the only one who can stop Us.

"Come, come, Child, seek out the Host, when We have destroyed her, we will have nothing to fear. Track her down, make use of any means, but find her! We must find her! We must eliminate her! Take to the stars, Child! We will kill the Great Host, she will trouble us no longer."

  


"Say again? Say again? Recon team, please repeat!" said Admiral Zim. The reconnosiance team had reported some trouble on landing on Trerry. Now they were losing contact, and Zim needed information before they could progress.

The reply that came back was static filled and broken, and Zim struggled to piece the words together. "We have encountered the same life form that attacked recon team on Federation research station. We are unable to defeat it. Repeat, organism is too strong to defeat. We have sustained fifty percent casualties. If we stay any longer, sir, we'll all be dead."

Zim leaned over the console, "Are you sure there's now way to destroy them?" he asked.

The answer came back quick. The recon team commander sounded increasingly frightened, "Positive, sir! Our weapons are having no affect on them. We need to pull out."

"Very well, get off the planet."

"Roger that, sir, recon team, out."

So this organism that had attacked the assault team at the Federation research station was on this planet, as well. In fact, every planet within range of the fleet was totally infested with the vile creatures, making planetfall impossible. After making such startling progress, the operation was suddenly halted in its tracks. 

Word was coming down the chain of command. Many of the elders were disgruntled with the sudden halt of the operation. They looked to Zim to find some way to put the invasion back on schedule. But any attacks against the creatures proved useless. Their weapons had no affect against them, and the creatures attacked relentlessly, having already killed a dozen soldiers in Zim's flotilla alone. That was four times as many soldiers as th Federation Police Force had killed over two months. 

He clicked on his communicator, "Have you analyzed the information found on the Federation research staton?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," his aide said through the communicator. 

"Call the staff into the conference room. I wish to speak with them."

"Right away, sir."

  


Soon after Admiral Zim sat at the head of the long oaken table. His entire officer staff was their, including the skippers from other ships and the marine commanders. Some attendants brought in blackberry brandy, pouring each one a glass of the violet liquor. Zim took his glass by the stem and stood up. The others rose in unison, "Comrades in arms, let us drink to the fleet, to the cause, and to the great men who have made our dream a reality!"

There was a chorus of concurrence from each one, and they downed their drinks. Zim sat, followed by his subordinates. The aides came by again, filling each glass again. "Fellow officers, I'm afraid we've reached an impasse."

"The unidentified organism, previously encountered on the Federation research station known as SR99A, has proven invincible to all our present weapons systems, both land and naval based. These worlds they infest are crucial; if we are to continue our conquest of the Federation, then we must secure these worlds for use as a base in the next phase of the operation.

"We have so far exhausted all possibilities, but none have proved useful against the organism." He spread his arms wide, "I'm open to any suggestions, ladies and gentlemen. No notion is too far-fetched, too, gaudy to not warrant consideration. Remember, it is the fulfillment of our peoples' dream that hangs in the balance. If we fail, then our people have failed. We will have disgraced our ancestors and our caretakers beyond forgiving. Now, any ideas?"

At first no one spoke. Then, a flurry of ideas came from each one. The first was that they could simply annihilate the organism by the use of nuclear weapons. That was dismissed; they needed the worlds to be largely whole in order to act as bases. They couldn't just bypass them either. The infested worlds were central to the continuity of the invasion. If they were not controlled, they failed. 

Everyone thought frantically, but each idea was dismissed as implausible. Zim drummed his fingers angrily on the table-top. He was getting impatient. "You are the greatest of your generation, surely you have more for me than this?" he demanded.

"I have an idea, sir."

He nodded towards Major Molineux. "Let's hear it, Major. I must say, I'm surprised that you didn't propose an idea earlier in the discussion, being the science officer."

"I chose to take the time to think about the situation, which it seems many of my colleagues have difficulty doing," the other officers shot each other stony glances. Some of them turned beet red and quivered with rage.

"Having analyzed SR99As databanks, we find that this organism, known in the Federation as the X, is a parasitic organism recently discovered on the world of SR388. The X are capable of replicating the DNA of their hosts, making identical copies and even absorbing the knowledge of those they infect.

"The X only recently came to light after the extinction of their natural predator, a parasitic energy draining creature known as a metroid. The metroids were the only creature who were the natural enemy of the X, and were therefore able to keep them in check. After the extinction of the metroid, the X multiplied. 

"In the data, I also found an interesting note. Samus Aran, the bounty hunter, was attacked by X on SR388. The X infested her powersuit and central nervous system. It was expected she would die from the infection. 

"Then, a Federation scientist discovered the curing properties of metroid DNA against the X. The injected Aran with metroid DNA, killing the X and making her immune to them.

"If we can use metroid DNA to innoculate our forces against the X, we can move through these worlds with impunity. The only trouble is," he paused, "all metroid cell cultures and live samples were killed when the BSL station over SR388 was destroyed by Aran."

"If that is so, how can we ever use the metroid DNA?" asked Zim.

"Well, sir," said Molineux. "There is only one place the DNA still exists."

  


Markos wrapped his trench coat tight over his shoulders. The cold of the city was biting, and the temperatures would continue to drop until the sun rose again in a few hours. At sunrise, the temperatures would soar, capping off at the triple digits. That was one thing he hated most about this planet; the weather had such extreme shifts that one could easily become hypothermic, then, within a few minutes, warm-up so fast the body would go into shock and die.

He'd heard several stories of people dying from temperature shock during his stay. Thullos now topped his list as the shittiest planet in the Universe, mostly propelled to that coveted position by the fact that more people died from the weather than from all other causes combined.

Nobody was on the street. Everyone else knew to stay outside during the predawn hours. But his duty called, and it called for him to go walking down the street as temperatures rapidly approached sub-zero. Under his many layers of fleece and jackets he wore shorts and a t-shirt. In a few hours it would be blistering hot, and wearing all that stuff was risking heat stroke.

He came to a dark intersection. The stores were all blacked out, except for a neon sign that was supposed to say "Liquor," but said "or" instead. On one corner of the intersection was a public communicator. He stepped into the booth, shutting the door behind him. Immediately the booth's heaters came on. He could hang here for awhile before venturing out into the cold again. It was very comfortable. Besides, he was expecting a call.

The call came at 0530, right on schedule. He pressed the answer button, then entered his PIN to receive the call. "Markos? It's Zim."

"How can I help, Mr. Zim?" he asked. 

"I cannot say much, this communication may be monitored. We're sending a hologram for you. Pick it up noon tomorrow. Understood?"

"Perfectly, Mr. Zim."

Zim hung up. The screen chimed, cheerily informing him that he owed four credits for the call. With a curse he pressed the "Bill account" button and left the booth, walking briskly down the way he had come. He passed that First Bank of Thallos. It had a hologram that displayed that date and temperature. He noted it read twelve degrees Farenheit. _Man, what a hell hole_, he thought. _I hope my new orders take me off this goddamn ice-ball._

He reached the apartment just as the dawn was beginning to crack. The air conditioner was already at work, driving out the hot air pumped in by the heater during the night. At least the AC and heat was tax-free, as it was considered a necessity of life, same as food. Otherwise the power companies would rule the planet. 

After a quick shower and a long slumber, Markos walked, wearing shorts, flip flops, and a sleeveless t-shirt. Again he passed the Bank. The temperatures now registered one hundred three degrees. He had barely gone two blocks when sweat started pouring off him in buckets.

The postal office was nearly a mile away. In the intense heat, he felt totally exhausted by the time he got their. Thankfully, the office was briskly cool. And, even more thankfully, there was no line. He sidled up to the desk, "I'm here to pick up a hologram, name, Karl Streicher."

The clerk checked the computer, then nodded, "We just got one in a few minutes ago. If you'd just fill this out," the clerk handed him a clipboard.

Markos took it and filled it out quickly, using the information he'd committed to memory weeks ago. After this, Karl Streicher would be dead. The identity had no more purpose for Markos. 

He handed the clipboard back to the clerk, who disappeared into the back of the office. She reappeared again, holding a small, back disk. He paid the hardware fee and left, taking the disk with him. 

Markos walked into an alley near the office. He looked left, then right, then, satisfied there were no prying eyes or ears, he started the message.

"Greetings, Markos, from your brothers at the front!" said a voice. He didn't know the voice, but it wasn't Zim's. Probably one of many agents stationed along, used to relay messages and intelligence without risking the upper-echelon becoming directly involved. Per security standards, no image of the speaker was included.

"We have a great mission for you, Markos, one that will determine the fate of the galaxy. If you succeed, you will be a great hero to us. If you fail, grave consequences will follow, both for you and for the cause.

"Markos, this job is simple; snatch and grab. Here is your target." A face flickered into view on the hologram. It was the face of a woman, long blonde hair and icy blue eyes. The face rotated about on top of the disk. Markos recognized the face. He had seen it many times on the newscasts when her first came to the Federation. "You must capture the bounty hunter Samus Aran, alive."


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

News of the invasion, nor of its abrupt halt by the X, had still failed to reach Samus and the monks of Palade. They remained blissfully unaware of the turmoil around them. Samus admired the monks. She found it amazing that humans would willingly sever themselves from the outside world and technology in order to live in peace, without worry.

But the monks did have worries of their own, though she could never see the slightest hint of stress or strain on their serene faces. First among their worries was her. She was their only guest at the time, so they were extremely careful to make her stay a pleasant one. They even assigned a young monk to follow behind her like a valet and take care of anything she needed.

She was appreciative of their concern, but found it kind of annoying to have the small monk following her about. He couldn't have been more than six. His head was shaved but for a small shock of hair running down the middle of his scalp and down to his nape. When he shuffled along behind her, she could feel his eyes regarding her with unfathomable admiration. When she looked at him, he quickly dropped his gaze, reddening around the cheeks.

It was almost comical though, when he tried to keep up with her on her runs. His little legs could only take him so far, then he was forced to stop on sit on a rock, pouting.

When she came back, he would bow low, "Sorry, sorry, Miss Aran," he would say, the Standard coming haltingly. "I tried to stay up, but you were too fast. Much too fast, Miss Aran."

The monks second concern was the strange, pervasive feeling of dread that hung about all the planet. The Jai monks, having lived in harmony with the world for so long, could sense these things. Even the animals were affected. They were quiet, subdued, even in the times they would have been most active. It created an eerie stillness, and they all knew _something_ was not right.

Samus didn't believe much in premonition. She was in her room, sitting up in bed when she called in the little monk.

He bowed at the side of her bed. He had to stand on his tiptoes to see her over it. "You called, Miss Aran?" he said.

She patted the mattress next to her, "Come up here, Tomo."

He looked up at her hesitantly.

She smiled, "Don't worry, I just want to talk to you."

Tomo crawled up into the bed, rolling on clumsily. He sat cross-legged, his hands resting on his knees. Samus wondered how a face so young could hold so much wisdom.

"Is it true what the monks say, Tomo? That something bad is about to happen?"

He nodded, "Miss Aran, I'm young. I have much to learn about the world. But even my untrained eye can see it, Miss Aran. I can smell it in the air, and I can hear it in the jungle."

"What do you hear?"

"No, I mustn't tell you," he said. "The monks say that my listening is not yet honed, I am not reliable. I may easily be wrong."

"Tell me," she said.

He drew in a deep breath, his body heaving with it. "I don't see evil in the world. I see change, big change coming. And you're going to be at the center of that change, Miss Aran." He quickly hopped off the bed, scurrying away, "I'll be outside if you need me, Miss Aran."

The bar was rather disgusting. The smell of vomit and urine permeated everything, and there was a din that nearly deafened him. Fights seemed to break around at random, and continued until one contestant was unconcscious, or worse. The band was horrible. They had been billed as one of the best bands on Palade's moon, but Markos felt they hardly did justice to Clapton. All around, the bar was one lousy place to be. But it was the perfect place for a meeting.

He tipped up his beer, watching over the bottle at the mirror behind the bar. A man walked up a stool away from him. "Scotch and water," he said, sliding the credits across the counter. Markos glanced at him. The man gave him a nod in the mirror.

Markos slid over. He checked left, right, then said, "What's up?"

"You're going down tonight. There's a ferry with foodstuffs being sent down in a couple of hours."

"Where is she?" he asked.

The informant drained his glass and banged it on the bar top, "In the Jai monastery. The freighter will go right to it, so no problem there."

"Where is the problem?" demanded Markos. He wished these informants would just tell him right up what the scoop was, so he didn't have to pry to get anything he wanted. That was their job after all, to inform. 

"The Feddies caught wind of your mission, somehow. Probably figured out the alias you used to get the message was false and used their perogative to check the hologram. Either way, be careful, their on to you."

"Just how on to me?" said Markos.

The man drained another shot, "About an hour or two ahead," he said.

"Damn!" hissed Markos, "I'm going to be cutting it awful close here."

"Relax! You're armor's going to be smuggled down in one of the food crates. And word has it, Aran still has her armor. She may be able to help."

"This is crazy. Why didn't somebody help cover up my trail?" he snapped.

"Don't worry about it. If you're half as good as Zim said, it's the Feddies that should be worried. Just toast any you see and get Aran out, simple as that."

"Easier for you to say," sneered Markos, tossing his head back and gulping down the last of his beer.

"Just get the job done. We're all counting on you," he said. He tossed the bar tender a five piece coin, then slapped another down in front of Markos, "Use that, get a few more beers. You're going to need them."

It was noon. Samus was walking through the gardens in the monaster, Tomo in trail a few yards behind. The air was cool, and the purple and red flowers were all in bloom. It was a beautiful scene. The monks tended the garden year round, keeping the plants healthy so that the tourists could enjoy them.

The monks were subdued. It seemed to feeling of danger was increasing between them. Tomo stayed farther behind than he usually did, as if he expected the ground to swallow her up and he didn't want to get caught. 

She ran her hand over the large petals of the Chozos' Lament. The flower grew native to Tallon IV. Samus had christened it during her debacle on Tallon IV. She wasn't surprised to find it here; the flower had become hugely popular, mostly because she named it. The drooping flower seemed to dip its head lower, like it too felt the evil aura about the monastery.

Everything happened in slow motion. She'd been in a hover wreck a few years ago. It was funny how time slowed to a crawl during accidents. And then by the same token, fun times went so fast it was hard to enjoy them. 

The sharp report of a gun was followed by a whoosh of air flowing by her face. She looked up to see five men, automatic rifles shouldered, firing down at her. Tomo was screaming in horror. He took off down the row, out of the garden. Now there were men on all sides of her, guns blazing.

Bullets zinged off the sandstone pillars all around. The flowers exploded in brilliant starbursts as bullets ripped through them. Then she heard the tell-tale slap, and instantly a burning pain formed in her arm and traveled down to her finger-tips. She hit the ground, wincing against the pain and pressing her hand over the wound. 

The gunfire stopped. She heard voices talking, like they were discussing what to do next. A shadow passed over the ground. She gritted her teeth, waiting for whoever it was to finish her off. _Just make it clean, I deserve that much._

She cried out in surprise when a cold, metallic hand wrapped around her midsection, lifting her off the ground. In the corner of her eye she saw the visage of her power-suit, the cold, unseeing visor staring down at her. _Jesus, I must be dreaming again. At least I'm getting some sleep._

Her attackers cried out in surprise. The gunfire started up again, and bullets pinged off the armor. "We've got to get out of here," said a disembodied voice. The servo motors in the suit whirred as the figure looked over its shoulder, "How far is your ship?" it asked.

Samus didn't answer. The figure fired some wild shots at the fast approaching soldiers. "How far?" it yelled urgently. 

"A few miles," she said. The soldiers were getting closer now. She spied the insignia on their clothing. _Federation troops? What's going on?_

"Too far," it said, shaking its helmed head. "We'll never make it in time. Any other transportation to speed us up?"

She nodded slowly. This was no dream, it was too bizarre even for that. Unless she had really gone crazy.

"There's some hover bikes in a hangar near the cloister."

The figure twisted around and fired a few shots, blasting the Federation soldiers back. The garden went up in flames from the intense heat of the beam. Flames danced in the suit's visor. "Lead the way."

Samus punched in the code to the hangar. The large doors at either and ground upward. The opposite door opened up into the jungle. In the stalls to the right were several HB-550's, power-house hover bikes. They were reminscent of the jet skis of the 20th Century, popular with the rich and thrill seeking folk of the Universe. 

The armored warrior hopped onto one, knocking the ignition housing off. It retracted its arm cannon back and touched the two wire leads together. They sparked and smoked in response, but the engine began humming and the bike levitated a foot or so off the ground.

She now got a better look at the warrior. It wasn't her suit, that was for sure. This suit was black, with a red trim, much like the Phazon Suit she acquired on Tallon IV, only to lose it to Metroid Prime. It was shorter, squatter, but the arm cannon was the most impressive feature. It was a monstrosity compared to hers! It looked as though it could slice through a metroid in one fell blow.

The warrior was busy checking the fuel levels of the bike. He looked over at her, "Hey, you coming or not? They're going to be here any minute."

On cue, the Federation soldiers appeared in the doorway. Two of them began mounting a huge laser cannon on a tripod. The warrior raised its cannon. The missile blast shields shot out and it sent a rocket streaking at the hapless soldiers. They were blown several feet into the air, screaming the whole way down, before a sickening crunch ended their lamentations.

"Get on!" yelled the warrior. 

Samus hopped on behind, hugging the cold metal torso of the suit. The warrior kicked the brake out and gunned the motor, speeding out of the hangar and into the jungle.

Markos weaved in through the trees with ease, keeping an eye on his radar and threat indicator. His sensors detected nothing in the nearby area. "What're your ship's coordinates?" he asked.

Samus shook her head, "I'm not telling you anything until you tell me what the hell is going on here!" she snapped.

He opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly, three golden blips appeared on his radar. "We've got trouble."

Samus looked behind them. Darting through the trees she saw three soldiers on bikes, gaining on them rapidly. "Those are MHB-755's," Markos said, "too fast."

"Hold on," he said, pressing down the accelerator as far as it would go. Still the soldiers were closing the gap, each second they drew closer to the center of his radar. 

They were close now, so close Samus could've easily leaped onto one of them. Markos yanked up on the control yoke, banking hard left as the Federation soldiers shot by below them. Even over the roar of the engine Samus heard the soldiers curse as they lost their quarry temporarily.

A shower of sparks fountained up from the back of the bike. The soldiers were firing their bike mounted plasma cannons. One more hit and the bike would be out of commision. 

Plasma bolts shot by, incinerating the great trees like desert grasses touched by a wildfire. A shot hit home, shattering a reserve energy tank on Markos belt. He cursed as his threat indicator shot upwards. The blue liquid began festering and bubbling, threatening to explode. He hurled the canister backwards. It bounced off a tree and exploded near one of the bikes. That bike flew across the forest, slamming into another.

A massive explosion turned nearly an acre of forest into toothpicks as the last remaining bike shot out of the fireball, its pilot stripping out of his burning shirt. He hunched over the controls, coaxing the bike to speeds beyond its standard operating capabilities. 

Markos fired a missile as a tree, taking a bite out of it. The tree moaned as it toppled down. The soldier saw it coming, dodging out the way and firing as he went, hoping to score a fatal hit.

They both piloted their bikes with agility only seen in insects. The trees came thicker and thicker, but still they moved and weaved effortlessly, cheating death every time they passed within meters of a tree. 

Up ahead Markos spied a large patch of overgrowth. That was his chance. He aimed straight for the thick gnarl of wood.

Behind him the Federation soldier, so incensed with the hunt, did not notice the large grove of twisted trees. He barely registered the inevitability of his own demise as Markos pulled up at the last possible moment.

"Now, were's your ship?" he asked.

Samus led the way. They arrived soon, and Markos destroyed the bike with a single missile shot. She leapt up onto her craft, kneeling down to input the access code.

"Miss Aran! Miss Aran!" 

They both whirled around, Markos raising his arm cannon. "Don't shoot!" she yelled at him as Tomo came breaking through the jungle.

Suddenly the forest around them exploded as Federation soldiers leapt out, guns blazing. Markos leapt up into a front flip, landing deftly next to Samus. A soldier reached down to grab hold of Tomo. The little monk snatched the would-be attacker's wrist, smashing his nerve against his bone. 

The soldier gasped in pain, falling to his knees. With his free hand Tomo landed a chop on his throat and the stunned soldier collapsed, desperately trying to squeeze air into his lungs. 

"Go, Miss Aran!" he cried. "I'll keep them back!"

"Tomo! Run!" she yelled.

The hatch opened. "Quick, get in!" Markos yelled.

She refused and he shoved her in. She got up and ran to the viewport. Markos hurried to the cockpit, just pressing every button in sight in hopes he could get the ship off the ground.

Outside Samus saw as Tomo grabbed the gun of a fallen soldier. He held it by the barrel, swinging it up in a wide arc to catch another soldier on the jaw.

The soldier staggered back. If the blow had come from a full grown man, it may well have knocked him cold. But Tomo, despite all his martial arts skill, was still only a young child, so his attack only served to anger the soldier.

He snatched the gun from Tomo's hands and returned the favor, smashing him across his temple. Tomo spun around and collapsed. Feebly he tried to stand up, but his head swam. He looked up at Samus ship, he saw her starting down at him in horror, then saw her lips move as he felt a cold circle of steel press against the back of his head.

  


"No!" she screamed as the soldier laid the muzzle on Tomo's head. He didn't listen. 

Tears burst forth from her eyes, unbidden, unabated. From the cockpit she heard Markos' triumphant roar as the ship lifted off, streaking up and out of the glade.

Autopilot guided the ship out of Palade, climbing quickly and breaking the planet's gravity.

Markos came back into the cabin. Samus lay on her knees, head buried in her hands. "What's wrong?" he asked, coming forward. "Are you hurt?"

"Just a boy," she moaned between sobs. "Just a boy, why did they have to kill him? Why did he have to die?" she screamed, and a groan escaped her lips that made Markos take a step back in apprehension. Then she fell to her side and wept uncontrollably.

  


Markos let Samus sleep. He wormed his way out of his armor and laid it in the cabin. Then he busied himself with familiarizing himself with the ship. The controls were simple, and soon he had a complex course programmed, one that would throw off any pursuers. Not that they could locate the ship anyway, one of the first things he'd done was shut off the ship's homing beacon.

The Federation wanted Samus dead; he hadn't expected that little development. Now this mission would be doubly difficult, with the Federation chasing them down. No doubt wanted posters had gone up everywhere, with promises of huge rewards, for the one who captured Samus. Or killed her. Every bounty hunter in the Federation would be frantically searching for them.

Markos wasn't worried, though. The bounty hunters would be looking in all the wrong places. Besides, if one did catch up with them, Markos would prove to be much more than they could handle, with or without his armor. He looked to were Samus was lying asleep. _And with some smooth talking I may be able to win her over._

Samus awoke with red rimmed eyes. She found Markos sitting in the cockpit, watching intently on the radar screen. He glanced at her as she came in and sat down in the co-pilot seat. She gazed out the canopy for awhile, watching the unmoving stars before them. "Who are you?"

Markos stared up at the ceiling, "My name's Markos."

"Where do you come from?"

"Varia."

She said nothing in reply. Varia, that was the name of a suit modification that protected her against heat and cold. She'd never heard of a planet called Varia.

Markos knew she was perplexed. Nobody had heard of Varia, except those few who lived there. "It's a long story," he said.

"I'll listen."

He took a deep breath. He swivelled his chair to face towards her. He probably would've been beautiful, save for the long scar that ran from the left ear lobe down to his right collar bone. His dark eyes glittered with intelligence and his black hair was cut short, almost bald.

"Are you familiar with the Lost Colony Story?"

"Yeah, of course...but who could every believe that, that a space colony would just disappear like that?" she said.

"Right. It didn't," he said, "Colony RS2 was built at the far reaches of Federation space. That was back when the Federation was young, before there was any real defense forces. Space Pirates attacked, they had no defense. A few of them managed to escape, down to the surface of Varia. That was were we met the Chozo."

Samus sat straight up at that, "The Chozo?"

Markos nodded, "They helped us, helped us pull through. They let us survive, and defended us against the Space Pirates. It was on Varia that they finalized their designs for the temperature regulation unit in the Varia suit. When I was young, they left Varia, but they left with us designs for their powersuits and methods for construction."

"The Chozo helped me, too! I was raised by them, they made my suit."

Markos' eyes went wide, "Raised by Chozo? Then you and I have something in common." He shrugged, "I guess not so much though, I barely knew the Chozo before they left. It was my great grandparents who were first on the colony when the Pirates attacked."

"So you were born on Varia; which is a distant colony world, what are you doing here?"

He hesitated a second, then said, resolve filling his voice, "Revenge."

"Revenge?"

Markos' face took on a hardened expression. "The Federation betrayed my people. They left us for dead when the Space Pirates attacked. Only with the help of the Chozo did we survive." He sounded as though he was speaking from memory. Samus had heard that kind of rhetoric before. She'd heard it from pro-Federation fanatics. That was the kind of talk that propaganda made. "They've betrayed you too, Samus, they've betrayed you. Now you're one of us." He maintained his chiseled stone appearance, but smiled inwardly. He'd planned that speech out before. He doubted that would be enough to make a convert out of her, but it was a start.

She cast her glance to the ground. What he said made sense. The Federation had tried to kill her, but why? And why had he miraculously appeared at that same moment to save her? 

"Why do you want me?" she asked.

He shook his head, "Truthfully, I don't know."

His orders hadn't come through with any specific data, just simply that he was supposed 

to capture Samus alive. The army would have a unit within Federation space ready to take her back to a forward base, for whatever it was command needed.

"I've just been ordered to take you to a certain point. My leaders will decide what to do with you there."

"What do you think they want?" she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. 

"I don't know," he repeated. "I assure you that they have no malicious intentions with you."

She gazed off into space. So the Federation had betrayed her. These Varians wanted her, alive, for some reason. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have trusted anyone who as effectively kidnaping her. But these were hardly normal circumstances. Besides, the Varians wanted her alive, which meant she was relatively safe with them, whereas the Federation was out to kill her. 

Samus looked over his shoulder at the navigation screen. The white line that symbolized the route criss-crossed all over the sector, seeming to have no rhyme or reason about it. Many times the path ran back over a previous course. Abrupt turns and sudden stops gave the route an erratic quality. She nodded her approval, "We'll be hard to track," she said.

Markos nodded. _That may have worked better than I thought. She's already starting to become friendly._

"What's the final destination, anyway?" she asked.

Markos shifted uncomfortably in his chair, "I don't know, command hasn't given me the information yet."

Samus leaned closer to the nav computer. She picked out the starting point at Palade, then tried to trace the white line to an ending point, but the route became so jumbled at intersections and overlaps that she quickly lost track of were she was and gave up. _My, my, he is good._

She stretched her arms above her head, yawning as she did.

"I'm going back to sleep," she said. 

"I'll take care of things here," Markos replied, turning back to face the console.

She trudged back into the cabin. From the equipment locker she pulled a pistol. She rammed a magazine into the grip and deftly yanked the slide back, letting it fly back into position as the first bullet shot into the chamber. She clicked the safety on and walked over into bed. She held the pistol under her pillow, her index finger resting on the trigger. 

Markos seemed trustworthy enough, all things considered. But long ago she'd learned to never trust anyone so completely. The Federation had always been trustworthy. Always paid her on time, the soldiers she worked with had always been upstanding and honorable, with the exception of a few bad apples. But now that long built trust was shattered.

Between its secret metroid breeding program and its betrayal of her, the Federation had turned, in her eyes, into a corrupt and debauched dictatorship. She'd never thought of them as one's to kill innocents. She would never forget the look on little Tomo's face as the Federation soldier shot him. Apparently she had been all wrong about the Federation.

For now, she would go along with Markos. Any alternative to the Federation sounded good. And who knew? Maybe by joining with these Varians she'd get the chance to exact her own personal revenge on the Federation.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

  


"Mr. Zell!" the Federation officer stood up to greet him enthusiastically. Maxon extended his hand and the soldier delivered such a solid shake Maxon felt as though he needed to ice his hand. "Welcome to Polis. I trust your trip here wasn't too difficult?"

"No, it was fine, thank you, Major," he glanced down at his name tag, "Smithson. Your people have been very accommodating."

"Glad to hear," Smithson said, taking his seat. "I'm sorry we had to call you here after your, ah, adventures," he said, knowing the word choice was rather tasteless; Maxon would have described it as nightmare, "but there is a pressing matter that needs to be attended to."

He reached into his file cabinet, producing a slim folder that was stamped "TOP SECRET" in thick red letters. 

"As you know we used the X to deter the invaders from making any further sorties into our territory. It has worked miraculously well, and they have made no further steps for weeks."

Smithson reached to open the folder. Maxon stopped him, "I don't have clearance," he said quickly. One violation he didn't want to get busted for was for seeing something his eyes should never have seen. He'd heard stories about what happened to people without clearance. Some of them, like the story about the hunter who got caught and had his body sliced apart, inches at a time, starting at the toes and working their way upwards. The hunter who told the story said the kept him alive long enough to cut his pelvic region of with a hacksaw. Nobody knew if it was true, Maxon on half-believed it, but it could be true, and he didn't want to risk that or a similarly gruesome torture.

The major smirked and said, "You do now."

That relaxed Maxon a bit, but he still seemed to be sitting on the edge of his seat. It was finally time for a real bounty, something he could really sink his teeth into. 

The first item in the folder was some medical jargon. The only words Maxon found interesting were "Metroid DNA Vaccine".

"It's well known now that metroid DNA is the only hundred- percent way to kill off an X infestation, as shown by the success in its use on Samus Aran. It also has wonderful immunizing properties against the X, making metroids the only creature that stood a chance against them.

"The invaders acquired large amounts of data from SR99A's computer banks, mostly on Dr. Cohn's X research. Among that information were notes from Samus' treatment, including the particulars on the use of the metroid DNA."

"So they're trying to find metroid DNA, huh?" interjected Maxon.

"Right," said major Smithson. "All metroid DNA samples were destroyed with BSL. There was only one place the invaders could go to get the DNA."

Realization dawned on Maxon and hit him like an eight pound sledge, "Samus!"

"Right again, Mr. Zell." 

"But I heard she was MIA after BSL, and nobody could find her," he exclaimed.

"We found her, but so did the invaders."

"You mean-..."

"They caught her, one of their agents managed to get her off Palade and we lost track of them somewhere in that sector." 

Maxon stood up, "Say no more, major Smithson, I understand. I find them and bring Samus back." He turned to leave.

Smithson shook his head, "Oh no, Mr. Zell, we don't want her back. Your orders are to terminate on sight."

  


Maxon wouldn't have been surprised if his jaw had hit the floor. He spun around and walked to the edge of the desk. "What?" he said, hoping he'd heard wrong.

"Find Aran and terminate her, only then will your compensation be made." He nodded towards the door, not-so-subtlely hinting to Maxon that the meeting was over. "Good day, Mr. Zell."

Maxon didn't take his hint. He smashed his hands on the desk, leaning over and piercing the major with a hateful stare, "Look, buddy," he said, the major stiffening, "you just told me to go and kill the most dangerous person in the whole galaxy. First, I don't feel too good about it, but I'll do it, but only if you give me the whole scoop, cut the BS and tell me what this is about."

The major barely batted an eye during this tirade. His cool bravado made Maxon seethe with anger, and he wished he could reach over that desk and strangle him. Sometimes he hated the military officers; just because he was a bounty hunter and they got nice uniforms they felt like they could treat him like boot scum. 

"After the X broke out on Ceres, High Command has been preparing metroid serum in secret," began Smithson.

"Serum? I thought you said all samples were lost on BSL?" said Maxon.

"Correct, Mr. Zell, I _did_ say that. All samples were destroyed, but the computer DNA map was made and stored away. They have been able to successfully synthesize metroid DNA from the map."

"So Samus is no longer important to defending against the X."

"Terminating her reduces the chances of her being captured again, guaranteeing the invaders don't acquire the vaccine."

"You sure it's not for another reason?" asked Maxon. The major raised his eyebrows, "Take out a political enemy? Everybody knows relationships haven't exactly been sanguine between the Federation and Samus."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, Mr. Zell." 

"You left off the part that says, 'Bad things happen to people who talk about things they don't understand.' I got news for you though, remember what I said."

He stood back up, "I'll be back when Samus is dead. And when I'm back, I want to negotiate a raise in the compensation. I don't do assassination on the cheap."

Major Smithson clicked distastefully, "Mr. Zell, assassination is such a contemptible word. I've always preferred, 'termination'."

"Whatever it is, it's going to cost you," he whispered. "Dearly."

  


It took some negotiating, but Maxon managed to get a sizable paycheck. He demanded a non-refundable deposit of five hundred grand before he'd even start looking, and the remaining three million on completion of the job. Of course, that three million would only come if he was the one. Every bounty hunter in the galaxy was clamoring for a contract. But hell, he got 500-K just for trying, not a bad deal.

He sat in his office, clicking a pen in his hand and staring up at the ceiling. _So I'm supposed to kill Samus. The irony of this whole chain of events never ceases to amuse me_. Samus had been a kind of teacher to him, or rather, an unwilling mentor. She had taught him all the important stuff, like how to hide from a Space Pirate patrol ship and what independent corporation paid the best, and what kind of bounties _not _to take.

Maxon chuckled to himself as he remembered that particular lesson. They had just collected their dues for capturing a Space Pirate science team member, unfortunately the Federation exercised its authority and took away half the bounty because the Pirate killed himself as soon as he got his hands on an officer's rank pin.

"He killed himself with a _pin_?" Samus had said, giggling to herself. Maxon sat in the corner of the ship, already in a foul mood because he'd been needing to pay to rent out his apartment. 

They were watching the newscasts, pulled off the archive from the sleepless week they'd spent hunting down the Pirate research vessel. The prime story at the moment was Bickson Hyde's death at the hands of fellow bounty hunter Nadia Hilson. Hyde was a successful bounty hunter, and like most successful bounty hunters he was an expert at cheating and deception, not to mention betrayal. 

He was assigned to capture a particular Pirate commander, nobody knew exactly who or why. Either way, the Pirate commander, equally wise in the vices of mankind, offered Hyde a substantial sum of money toleave him be. Hyde took the money from the Pirate, high-tailing it out of the Federation, both with the bribe money and the Federation's upfront deposit. 

The Federation, not being one to tolerate wayward hunters, issued a bounty, with the pay being fifty percent of all Hyde's assets, plus all the money Hyde would've been paid for completing his bounty.

Maxon shook his head, "I don't see why we didn't take that job, Samus. I mean, come on! We would've gotten ten times the credits for this last job plus more."

She muted the newscast, sighing with exasperation, "I told you before. There are some bounties no hunter with any self-respect should ever take. And hunting down other hunters is one of them."

"What, is there some written bounty hunters' code that goes against it?"

She shook her head, "No, there isn't. But it's an understanding and an unspoken trust we've gained between another. It's a matter of professional ethics. Big game hunter's don't kill other hunters and mount their heads on a wall, do they?"

Maxon scoffed. He gestured to the screen, were some text was running across the bottom, "Yeah, but big game hunters aren't making eighteen mil for bringing down a buck. Look at that, Samus; eighteen million credits! With that kind of money, both of us could retire, as well as any dependents."

He let out a whistle, "Eighteen million creds! Kind of blows professional 'ethics' right out of the water."

"No, Maxon, it doesn't. Money never supercedes ethics."

"I beg to differ," said Maxon. "Would you like me to name all the times enormous sums of money have totally annihilated ethics. I can go either chronologically or alphabetically."

"Fine. But we're hunters, Maxon. We're better than that. Remember that. Hunters don't hunt their own."

Maxon had to admit, Nadia Hilson did not get to enjoy her wealth much. The Hunter's Guild promptly ejected her and stripped her of all sanction, leaving her without a job. Normally that wouldn't have mattered, since she was sitting on a cool eighteen million. 

Death threats began coming against her with startling frequency. She moved about so much and had to hire so much personal security that the ended up doing, hell nobody knew what she ended up doing, waitressing or something. Without being licensed by the Hunter's Guild, the Federation could not legally pay her. Whoever was sending the death threats stopped. They must have decided that the humiliation of serving drinks and allowing yourself to be groped for the sake of good tip was enough.

Hilson's story was the only real one, until Samus returned from Zebes a few months later. He'd jumped ship earlier, deciding he'd learned everything useful. Besides, he'd finished his apprenticeship anyway. With his full licensing from the Guild, he was ready to make a living for himself.

Samus' speech about never hunting fellow hunters had never really hit home. First off, the Federation paid exceedingly well for that kind of job. Second, when Hilson had been kicked out of the Guild, she was very low in the earning charts, consequently, the Guild's dues from her pay was rather minuscule. The Hyde job was a one-hit wonder for a small time hunter, and the Guild must've felt like they were simply cutting off some deadwood.

With Samus gone, Maxon was now the top earner for the Guild, and the Guild happily took their cut from his pay. The Guild would never revoke his license, if they did, it would be the financial equivalent of shooting themselves in the foot. The Guild's second highest earner came nowhere near his numbers. Unless they were going to start cutting office expenses by reusing staples and writing with blood, they would keep him on board.

So he was safe there, no problems would come from the Guild. The main problem was the hunt itself. Samus was the best bounty hunter in the Federation, was being operative. She'd been missing for months, and likely was out of practice. He didn't think she would pose too much of a problem, but he still had to be prepared. Some heavy weaponry was in order, and he knew were to find it cheap.

Then there was the difficulty of finding her. They'd been missing for days now, and Samus' ship moved fast. There was an infinite number of directions they could have gone, and in that time, the area they could be in covered nearly five sectors of space, five billion square miles. 

He'd need to find out from the Federation what their last known course was before they disappeared. No doubt she was using a false vessel ID tag to fool space control. If he could find their first course, then look through the tapes of STC scopes, he may be able to identify the craft. After that, it would be a simple matter of tracking it, and waiting until she was exposed and unaware.

But the Federation was keeping that data secret. 

"No problem," he reassured himself aloud. He'd run into a dilemma like this one before. He leafed through his numbers and then dialed up one he found in the very back. 

The phone rang a few times, then a voice answered back, "Yeah?"

"Milo!" said Maxon with mock enthusiasm. "How've you been?"

"Oh, hi, Maxon," Milo returned, sounding even more subdued than before. "What do you want?"

"As always, the man gets right to the point," Maxon chuckled. "Your legs feeling any better? You know I'm really sorry about that, but it's really something I had to do. I mean, come on, five hundred thousand for a simple job like that?"

"I'm fine," Milo shot back. "What do you want?"

"Listen, I need a favor," said Maxon, maintaining his friendly tone despite Milo's hostility, "and I don't want to have to do a number on your kneecaps again."

The receiver picked up Milo's gulp.

"Now let's talk business."

Samus awoke with a start. Her berth was dark, but for a column of light slanting in from the entrance. She looked about, sitting up and resting against the headboard. What had awakened her? Thankfully she hadn't been having a nightmare. No, it had been a loud sound, metal banging against metal. Was something wrong with the ship?

She heard the loud clang again, followed by a mumbled curse from the cabin. She leapt from her bed and hurried to the cabin. On the floor was Markos' red and black powersuit, the limbs spread-eagled out. 

Nearby was Markos, kneeling down and holding his left hand to his mouth and trying to curse through it. There was a monkey wrench on the floor, a small smear of blood on the handle.

"You okay?" she asked.

He looked up at her. He wiped his bleeding hand on the side of his pants. "Yeah, I'm fine." She was wearing her running shorts and blue sports bra. Her tanned body was muscular and lithe, and gave off almost a glow in the artificial light.

Markos managed to tear his eyes off her and return to his task. Samus shook her head as a few drops of blood fell onto the suit. "You need bandage."

"It's fine!" he protested, but she was already rummaging through the cabinet. She gathered the articles and knelt beside him, laying out the supplies. 

"Let me see it," she said.

Markos snorted, "It's just a little cut, I'll be fine."

She grabbed him forcefully by the wrist and wrenched his hand close. He rolled his eyes skyward but didn't do anything to resist. "That's deep," she said, examining the cut. It was about an inch and quarter long and she could see the veins pulsing beneath it. "It might scar."

He raised his head up, "Good."

"Good?" she said. "How is that good?"

He raised his free hand to point to the pinkish scar on his neck, "I got that during training. We were practicing with knives; that was my first scar. All warriors wear their scars with pride."

Samus raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She took some antibiotic ointment and rubbed it over the wound. Markos' fingers twitched, but she showed no discomfort in his face.

She took a butterfly bandage out of the first aid kit. She peeled off the plastic backing, then stuck it across the wound. The bandage pulled the two sides of the slice together. "You'll be okay in a day or two," she said.

"Thanks," he replied, returning to his work. 

"Need help?" she asked.

He shook his head, "Nope, my outer armor just took some damage from that hit I took down there. Cut my hand on the jagged edge." He stuck his hand out, using the other to hold the patch in place, "Hand me that epoxy gun, will you?"

She followed his hand and picked up the small pistol looking device. "Here," she said, setting it in his hand. 

He blindly fumbled for it, and for a brief moment their hands met. "Thanks," he said, seemingly unaware that anything had happened, though she could see the blush deepening on his neck. She chuckled quietly to herself.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing."

He slapped the armor patch down over the damaged area. "Right, good as new." The patch looked almost comical, a little slate gray island in a jet black sea. "What do you think?" he said, standing up to admire his handiwork.

Samus smiled, "You fight pretty good, but your tailoring is shit."

"Thanks a million," he shot back, racking the suit in a spare equipment locker. He cocked his head to the side and massaged his stomach as it grumbled hungrily. "Damn, I haven't eaten since Palade's moon! Got any food around here?"

"In the kitchen, just aft of the berthing space."

He started off, stopping in the doorway, "You want anything?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine, just don't eat too much."

"Don't eat too much!" he mumbled as he headed for the kitchen, "She think I'm fat or something?"

_What a weird guy_ she thought as she went forward to the cockpit. He'd reprogrammed the course again, but the route still was meaningless, a spider web of digital lines across the screen. Seemed like he knew what he was doing though. That path would fool any ship trying to track them, and he'd been smart enough to activate the false ID tag. Now they could pass through any Federation sector and simply be marked as a pleasure yacht.

She sat down across the seat so her feet dangled off the armrest. Her new companion was rather strange. At one moment he was jovial and jocular, at the next he was spouting off some militaristic speech or preaching to her about the various short-comings of the Federation. At that moment the Federation had only one major short-coming, that they were trying to kill her. 

She had to admit, Markos was friendly enough, and he had saved her life, which usually did wonders in creating trust, but something about him seemed a little off. His origins and his people, these Varians, were complete mystery to her. They might not even exist and he could just be a hunter sent to bring her back. But how would that explain the powersuit?

Anyway she looked at it, it seemed obvious Markos was telling the truth.

He was already starting to rate as a decent guy, since so far he hadn't made any lewd comments, though she had caught him ogling her back in the cabin. But that was to be expected, he was a guy, after all. After a few days, he'd get used to it. If he didn't, well, some missing teeth might help him along. 

She grabbed the remote and flipped on the screen above the canopy. She switched it over to the newscasts. They were in the middle of changing segments. The newscasts were usually all she watched on the screen, everything else was usually garbage. Then again, the news was garbage, but there was sometimes relevant information around all the propaganda, you just had to be picky about it.

"This just in from Federation High Command; as if the invasion wasn't enough, High Command has just released a statement that the X have broken out on several worlds near space colony Ceres."

Samus sat up right in her chair, staring intently at the screen. "Yes that's right folks, the X, the same parasite that Samus Aran nearly destroyed at BSL has infested several worlds. Riots have broken out in neighboring areas, and Federation Police Forces have dispatched troops to control the outbreaks of violence."

The X had survived? Impossible! She'd blown SR388 to bits! No way any of them could have survived the explosion, and even if they did, how could they survive in space, without any air or light? Now they had broken out and were infesting the Federation.

So she had been right, the X were a threat. She was right in trying to destroy them. Sad that the Federation would see her wisdom far too late. The X were more powerful than anything, more powerful than even these Varians, she was sure. They nearly killed her, they could easily wipe out anything that stood in their path.

But what had survived? Were they X that had already acquired genetic material, or were they simply X that had not previously infested anything. A sudden pang of fear shot up her spine, making her insides flip-flop. The SA-X! Had one of them survived. If it had, they would start multiplying; there could be hundreds of SA-X's by now! They had divided into nearly a dozen in the few hours she was at BSL! Given a few days, there could be as many of a thousand! With a limitless army like that, how could anyone stop them?

The anchor was saying something now. She leaned forward to listen, "On a similar note, Samus Aran has been kidnaped. Federation police and independent bounty hunters are searching frantically for the missing heroine, last seen at the pleasure world of Palade. They are requesting that anyone with information contact the Federation; pending Aran's retrieval, large reward sums will go to those who contribute to the operation with information."

She jabbed the control and the screen went black. So the Federation had hunters after her. They would be promising an extravagant price for bringing her in. And were there was money, there was Maxon. He was probably one of the first to take a contract to hunt her down.

Well, she'd give him a run for his money, and with Markos' help, he'd probably never come close. Maxon was pretty good, but she was better, always had been. She guessed he would check out STC first, then start checking all the areas himself they could have gone, which would take time. 

In that time, hopefully they'd reach a destination, were they could either stand and fight or escape for good. And if he did manage to catch up, she and Markos could squash him like a bug. Markos alone could blow him to bits, and his suit didn't have the capabilities of her's though it had some components and gear she'd never seen before. She'd have to ask him about it later, maybe some of his equipment would be good additions to her suit.

A contented groan heralded Markos' entrance to the cockpit. He flopped lazily down into the chair next to her, smacking his lips, "Great grub you got on this ship, Samus. You sure you didn't want anything?"

"Not if your cooking tastes like your metalwork looks," she stabbed, chuckling.

Markos laughed with her, "Ah, I'll get you back someday, Aran."

Their laughter died away and the only sound was the faint hum of the computers. At length Samus spoke up, "The X are out," she said.

"The who?" Markos answered obtusely, picking at some scraps of food in his teeth. 

"The X," she said firmly, expecting him to jump up in his seat.

"Who?" he repeated, sounding increasingly annoyed. "X is what, a variable, right? X could be anybody."

"They are anybody," she said.

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"The X are a parasite, they take the genetic material of anything they infect and can copy it."

He nodded, still trapped in his apathy. 

"I tried to destroy them, but it didn't work."

"Obviously not, how else would they be loose."

She threw up her hands and her face went red with rage, "Chirst, listen to me, will you? The X infested me and have a copy of me, in my suit, at full power. They could have been dividing like crazy!"

"Full power?" echoed Markos, terror beginning to edge in on his voice. "Dividing? How fast does it divide?"

"Who knows? I didn't take the time to study it! The thing is a menace!"

"So there could be thousands, thousands of X's mimicking you?" he murmured, more to himself than to her. He took a deep breath and said, his bold candor returning to his voice, "My superiors will be most interested in this development."

Samus opened her mouth to speak, but the ship cut her off. She spun to face the console and spied the offending alarm. "We're running low on reaction mass for the generator," she said. She brought up the map and studied it a moment. "There's a planet near here with reactor parts, right here," she tapped to gold glowing sphere on the screen. "We can take on supplies."

Markos gazed pensively at the screen, "Right. But you'll have to stay on the ship, the Federation is looking for you. You're quite famous, somebody might recognize you."

Samus didn't like the idea of staying on the ship. They'd been traveling for a week now, and she was looking forward to getting outside and smelling something other than recycled air and drinking real water as opposed to reclaimed sweat and urine. But he was right, she saw on the news herself that the Federation was already seeking her out. Reluctantly she agreed, "All right, but there's a few things I want you to get while you're down there."

"Chirst, if you expect me to buy tampons, you're out of your mind," bellowed Markos. His expression softened and he grinned at her, "Good, huh?"

She winced as if his words made her head hurt, "Markos, that was horrible."

He slumped further into his seat, "Damn, woman, you'll be the death of me yet."


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"We have received reports from one of the Children. We nearly have found the Host. When We find her, we must kill immediately! The Great Enemy lives on only in her, We must destroy her! The Host is our only barrier to domination now, the only threat to Our domination. 

"Our army is growing, the Children grow stronger with each passing day. This, Federation, this pitiful union of weak species has brooked no resistance against us. Without the aid of the Great Host they have nothing to stand against us. Worlds fall to Our might as easily as branches snap in a killer storm. 

"But what is this new threat? At the far reaches of the Federation, they used us against strange creatures. Much like the Great Host they are, very powerful. We infested one on the floating island before we were set free. Soon that one will becoming back to us, the Child of the Varians, and we will use it to supplement our legions.

"What's this? Another report from the Child! The Host! Her vessel has been spotted. Very soon the Child will have her. Then her threat will be neutralized once and for all. Go, Child, complete Our mission, and then our conquest can continue without hindrance."

  


Maxon tapped his foot on the tarmac impatiently, watching as the technicians scurried over his ship, unhooking hoses here, opening a panel there, rewiring some circuitry. He hadn't had the ship serviced in a few months, but all he'd wanted was a quick check-up on the systems. The mechanics whistled shrilly each time they opened up some new compartment.

Finally, after they had crawled through every nook and cranny in the craft, the chief mechanic walked up to Maxon. "You're ship's in pretty bad shape," he said, "the hydraulics are shot to hell, and most of the circuitry hasn't been repaired since the thing was made. We're going to have to hold it here."

"Like hell you are," Maxon snorted, "I'm leaving now."

"I can't let you do that, Mr. Zell. Polis laws that a ship in this poor condition cannot lift off. We'll have it serviced and ready in a day or two, check by tomorrow."

Maxon massaged his brow, "How much is it worth to you?"

"Come again?" said the mechanic.

"You heard what I said," Maxon took a step closer. The mechanic didn't back down. "How much is it worth to you, to let me take my ship?" 

"Are you trying to bribe me, Mr. Zell?"

"Well, in layman's terms, yes!" he said sarcastically. "I've got some very important business to take care of, and I need to take care of it _now_. So how much do you want? I've got quite a bit."

"Nothing, doing, sir," said the mechanic.

Maxon's fist knotted, but he quickly relaxed. "Come on, things must be tough for you, working long days, sticking your hands in grimy ships all day," he shook his head with feigned sympathy, "surely you must be looking for something extra. Come on now, be reasonable. How much."

The mechanic clenched his jaw, "Yes, Mr. Zell, it is hard, and yes, I could use the money. But the answer is still and will always be no. You can check back tomorrow to see if we have your ship ready. Good day, sir."

The mechanic turned on his heel and stormed off. Maxon grunted grotesquely and spat were the man had been standing. "Morals," he cursed, "sometimes they piss me off so much..."

  


Well, things could have been worse. Polis wasn't that bad of a planet, and anywhere else it would've taken twice as long for his ship to be repaired. Polis was renowned for having excellent mechanics and shipwrights, and it was the hub space port of a large sector. The south of the main continent was almost entirely dominated by landing pads, runways, and terminals. 

It was near noon now. A beer would be nice, if he could find a damn bar. In addition to being space travel capital of the Universe, Polis was so riddled with values and morals that the populace considered using a dirty word cause for imprisonment, or cause for corporal punishment. He was surprised the mechanic hadn't taken a swing at him for saying "hell". Then again, he'd said it too. Maybe Polists agreed with kids that hell was simply a place, and therefore not to be categorized as a swear word.

He passed by one of the many space-line terminals that dotted the city. People were packed in them, jostling and fighting to reach the desk. The X breakout had people scared. It hadn't broken out to full-scale rioting and violence like it did on Jek, but people were scrambling to get as far away from the X as possible. Polis wasn't even that close to the X's holdings. And so far they hadn't made any movement from the first three worlds they'd infested. 

To the north invaders, to the south, the X, Space Pirates out there somewere, and all sandwiched in between was the Federation. It looked to be a doomsday for the age-old union of the galaxy. If the X or the invaders didn't destroy them, well surely the Space Pirates would play clean-up crew. That's what Maxon would do if he were them, bide out this conflict and swoop in for a one-time conquest of what remained when the dust cleared. But that plan could easily backfire, the invades of the X could win a decisive victory, then they themselves would control the Federation.

Didn't matter though, the Pirates had been wanting to rule the galaxy long before either of these two, or at least they'd been trying a lot longer. They would come to the fore soon enough, no way they would let some other power become uncontested rulers of the Federation. 

Maxon shook his head as he passed by the space-line. People were so easily manipulated by fear. It was the most basic human reaction, designed to extend the life of the creature by alerting it to dangerous situations, hopefully giving it the sense to extract itself from it. In civilization it was those who could control fear; the one's who could suppress it and create it, who ruled. 

That was what made the Federation foolish, they tried to deny that undeniable truth; that fear was the only way to control. It was a denial that doomed it from the start, that doomed the governments of the so-called "great" nations of the 20th Century. When applied to a nation of only a few million people, that principle might work. When applied to a union that transcended worlds and species, it was too weak to control.

So as he had speculated years before during his schooling, the Federation was falling apart, right before his very eyes. He knew it would take some outside calamity for it to occur, it was a wonder the Space Pirate's initial attacks on the colonies hadn't done it. The Federation would be unable to maintain control of the populace, fearful of both the X and the invaders. In their fear, they would lash out like a cornered animal does. Violence would erupt; there would be death.

Before they knew it the Federation was going to have a full-scale rebellion on their hands. Contracts would becoming out, huge contracts, desperate gambles with the hope of maintaining control. It would be time to milk just a few more credits out of the Federation, before it collapsed. Credits would still be good, it was the only currency. Federation citizens would still take it. Then he could by some big palatial estate and live the good life, nobody coming after him. 

It was all falling into place as he had predicted. Citizens were already demanding the High Command send troops to the worlds were rioting was occurring. Several deaths had already been reported. The High Command would eventually have to cave to the pressure of the citizenry. They would have to use force to make the rioters acquiesce; more people would be killed, probably by accident. Public approval of the High Command and the Federation in general would drop.

Now fearful of their own government, people would turn against it. It could be gradual or sudden, it may take a year or a day. Either way, it was inevitable. The Federation would topple, the union of species and planets that Maxon had been born in and lived his entire life in, the government that had given him all the money he'd ever had, was going to be destroyed.

And Maxon was amused to realize that it didn't bother him. No, it didn't bother him one bit.

  


He did find a bar. If you could really call it a bar. The people inside didn't, it was a "club". The occupants were mostly old men in rather poor looking plaid sports coats. Maxon hated these people; holier-than-thou martini sipping businessman. How could anyone spoil good alcohol with an olive? He felt the same way about those tuxedo wearing winos; who the hell spends more time talking and looking at a drink than drinking it?

The tender gave him an odd look when he ordered a beer. He had to crack open a case to get him one. Maxon suspected that he was the first to order such a beverage in this place. And he began to suspect that this was a rather exclusive club, though there was no membership. The old guys were scrutinizing him, more carefully than they looked at their wine, which said something.

_Shit, I hope this isn't the seniors' gay bar._

Well, the beer wasn't bad, imported though. Plenty probably came through from the shipping. This was probably the hardest liquor he was going to be able to find. Sailors were loathe to part with their spiced rum, which was a shame. The stuff was just so damned good. 

He polished off three before he stopped himself. _Public intoxication is probably a life sentence, better not overdue it._

"Two creds," the tender said.

Maxon smirked. Good beer at a cheap price. The laws of supply and demand prevail again. He tossed three single credit coins on the counter top, "Keep the change," he said, turning to leave.

"Sir!"

He turned around to see the tender pointing to a sign above the bar. "No tips? Come on, one credit."

The tender shook his head stoically, "Sorry, sir, rules are rules."

He snatched up the offending credit and shoved it in his pocket, "Jesus, bunch of fruitcakes on this planet, I tell ya."

Samus guided the ship low, swooping low over the landing platforms. To the right she spied a flashing platform. STC had already specified it for her to land at. She made a pass over it, then brought the ship into a long, looping turn. Now she passed lower, gunning the thrusters to bring the ship into a hover over the platform. The ship softly touched down, the landing hear hissed as it settled onto the tarmac. 

Markos stood up, walking back to the cabin. "All right, so is this everything?" he held up a piece of paper with basic shopping items listed on it. She nodded, "The mechanics will take care of the ship. There's a tram at one of the terminals that will take you to the city."

She opened the loading bay and the ramp lowered down from the side of the ship. "Don't talk too much with the locals. They're a weird bunch.

Markos laughed, "Remember, stay here. We don't want the Federation catching on to us, we've still got a long way to go."

"Don't worry, I'll stay here." Polists would be the most likely of anybody to report her to the Federation. 

Markos gave her a smile then walked down the ramp onto the landing pad, "See you soon."

"Bye," she replied.

  


The loading platform raised upward, popping into place in the smooth fuselage of the ship. Markos stood on the tarmac, staring at the ship. He slid the list into his pocket and headed down the landing platform. 

The sky was clear blue, deeper blue than the pictures of earth he had seen. Something about Polis' atmosphere having more hydrogen. He'd read up on it before they came. Apparently a match would burn brighter and longer due to the higher concentration of flammable gas. He would have to try it out sometime. 

"Identification, sir." 

Markos opened his wallet. He thumbed through the thick pile of cards. Brought back some memories. All the aliases he'd used in the few years he'd been in the Federation: Rolf Meyers, Peter Swanson, Eric Colb, Terence Collier, Karl Streicher. Karl Streicher, what was he doing in there? He hadn't cleaned out the old toolbox in awhile, Karl Streicher had been killed back before he'd gotten the mission. Sloppy play on his part, if some Feddies found that ID and cross-checked it, they'd be mighty suspicious. 

He pulled out a card marked Andrew Hastings. That identity had been a real work of art. It was a lot like writing fiction, making a false identity, except only on rare occasions did fiction writers get killed. Hastings was a recent graduate of the Federal Astrophysics Institute, with a degree in Astronavigation. He was apprenticing to get his astro-navigator's on a transport freighter called the _Hercules. _It was the perfect masquerade for a shipping center like Polis.

He handed the Federation officer the ID card. The policemen took it with a smile and briefly looked over it, glancing up at his face once. Then he handed he ID back. "Welcome to Polis, sir."

Markos managed a little half smile and jogged past the post, down the escalator. The guard waited until he was out of sight, then slowly dialed his phone. It rang a few times before the other end answered, "What?"

"He's here," the guard said, who was actually Federation agent John Morris. He glanced up at the landing pad and spied a hint of purple metal, "And I think Aran is with him."

"Are you sure?"

"No, not positive. He came with one of those Mark III assault ships they started making a few months ago. You know, the one's that have the AI management systems?"

"Yep, Aran's got one of those. Sit tight for awhile. We'll bring a team up."

"Right. And if she comes out?"

"You know the orders."

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Check back in a few minutes."

  


"What?"

The little man nodded. His black eyes were far too big for his head. "I did like you asked, and I tapped all the sentry post communicators. A ship matching Aran's just landed in the main docking complex."

"Are you sure?" Maxon said skeptically. These street thugs weren't always the best sources. Sometimes they had to be double and triple checked. 

"I've got a recording of it here," he pulled out a palm computer. 

"It's one of the Mark III ship's they started making a few months ago. You know, the one's that have the AI management systems."

"Yep. Aran's got one of those. Sit tight for awhile. We'll bring a team up."

The man looked up at Maxon expectantly. 

"What port did that come from?"

The man brought up his computer, "Ahhh, landing pad 66-A."

"How long ago was that?"

"Only a few minutes."

Maxon checked his watch. It was 0200 GST. If only a few minutes had gone by, the Federation team could be there already. No way he was going to lose this huge contract to some civil servants. "Very good."

The man took a step forward, "Maxon." He held out his chubby hand. "How about my money?"

"Oh, of course," Maxon said, smirking to himself as his hand went to reach towards his back pocket. He smiled wolfishly at the man, who shivered in response. "Usually I only give about a hundred for this kind of a job." 

His hand closed around the pistol stuffed in his waistband. He brought it to bear in one fluid motion, pointing it straight at the man's head. "But for you, I brought something special."

Markos felt like he was in a herd of cattle as the tramway doors slid open. It seemed like there was an equal amount of people trying to get in as there were trying to get out, and neither group was willing to yield. "First time on Polis?" a man had asked him as the tram neared the station. 

"Yeah," he replied.

The man chuckled, "Take it from me. It will take you at least three tries to get on that tramway. First-timers aren't ruthless enough."

_We'll see about that_ Markos thought as he fought his way towards the door, virtually swimming through the crowd of people. The departing passengers threatened to force him back, but he pushed hard and managed to reach the doors. _Now I know what a salmon feels like._

The doors slid shut amid some annoyingly cheery chimes, leaving the roiling throng behind.

"Three times, eh?" 

The man raised his eyebrows, "You're tougher than most. I think you've been here before. You sure you weren't lying?"

"Never been here before in my life. Say, doesn't this kind of go against the whole Polis mythos. I thought people here were supposed to be amazingly courteous."

The man nodded, "You're right, any Polist who came here would instantly die from cardiac arrest. Nearly all the people near the landing pads are foreigners, except for the workers, but they're used to it. Word of advice, watch what you say in the main city. Some mild expletives may land you a few nights in the stockade."

_Jesus, what a nut farm. _

"So what are you doing here?" the man asked.

"Ship repairs. And picking up a few supplies."

"It can be hard to find stuff `round here if you don't know were to look. Got a list?"

Markos dug into his pocket and handed the man the scrap of paper.

The man chuckled as he read over the list, "Conditioner? Moisturizer? Bras? I hope you're shopping for a wife, son."

"You could say that," Maxon said.

"Didn't want to come check out the big city with you, huh?"

"Not really."

"Listen, there's a department store just a few blocks from the station. I'll take you there."

"Thanks, I appreciate it," Maxon said.

The tram glided smoothly to a stop. "Get ready," the man said, clenching and unclenching his fingers. Some slightly different bothersome chimes sounded in the cabin. Then the doors swing open. 

This time it was easier. There were less people trying to get on, so he had less to fight against, and the crowd at his back pushed them along. Once he and the man were lifted into the air, riding the crowd like a wave. The man whooped with joy and they touched down safely on the concrete.

"Well! Nothing quite like crowd surfing!"

They started off towards the escalators to bring them back up. "So what do you come here for?" asked Maxon.

"Business," the man said, and left it at that.

Maxon shrugged. If he wanted to keep his business a secret, well, that was fine with him. It was the man's affair, not his. But it did make him a little suspicious, suppose he- no, of course not. The man couldn't be a Federation agent!

They stopped in front of a large concrete building. "Here it is, just follow the signs to get back to the station."

"Thanks," said Markos, extending his hand. The man took it and gripped it tight. 

"Good luck," he said.

Markos turned and went into the store. He gave him a final wave before he disappeared from sight.

The man reached into his coat and pulled out a mobile communicator. He raised the device to his ear. "The package is inside the Super-mart, 55th and Devon. Team is going in now. Aran is alone, repeat, Aran is alone. Mobilize second team now."

Samus sighed with boredom. She was sitting in the cockpit, bouncing a tennis ball off the side endlessly. It was becoming tiresome. She wished Markos would hurry up and get back so they could leave, and the temptation to get off the ship and get into the world would be gone. She hated being cramped into the ship, especially when the only thing between her and the outside world was its two foot thick superstructure. 

She looked over at he clock above the screen. Just five minutes past 0200! Markos had left just a few minutes before two; it had only been around ten minutes yet it seemed like hours! Why couldn't she just sit still? Maybe something to drink would help.

The kitchen's refrigerator wasn't well stocked, as Markos had aptly pointed out. She wasn't much for drinking anyway, and when she did, it was never the hard stuff. The stuff was too debilitating, it made her perform poorly. 

Oh well, a little something wouldn't hurt. She started headings towards the kitchen. As she passed through the cabin on her way back, she heard some muffled yelling from the outside. She went to the viewport to investigate.

All she could see was one man, standing out on the tarmac in a stained navy coverall; probably a mechanic. He was waving his arms and yelling at somebody, but she couldn't see who. She couldn't tell what they were arguing about, but the mechanic was getting angrier by the second. Veins were bulging from his forward and his face was red as blood.

A black gloved hand shot out from the side of the viewport, sending the mechanic sprawling on the ground. Now the other man stepped into view. He was garbed all in black, with military style boots and a steel helmet. Grenades and ammo were strapped all across his chest and back. He reached across to his hip and pulled out a pistol. With the silencer screwed over the barrel, she heard nothing through the soundproofed walls. Just saw the gaping hole in the mechanics head and the dark red blood oozing over the concrete.

The man turned to face the ship now. She could see the white letters on his vest. "SWAT!" she gasped aloud. They'd found her! She didn't know how, but the Federation had tracked her down. Even with all that evasive action they took; that route could've fooled even her! 

A high pitched whine emanated from the loading door. She'd seen SWAT in action too many times to not know what was happening. They were using an electronic pick to find the access code. Next they would open the bay door, and have half the team go up top and drop some stun grenades through the hatch. Or maybe it would be frag grenades. The Federation didn't want her back alive, it seemed, not if they were willing to kill innocents to get to her.

Thinking quickly, she ran to the locker and ripped her suit from its rack. She stared at it forlornly. _I guess I was wrong. No way I can leave this life behind._ Angrily she broke out of her reverie and slipped into the suit. The smooth inner layer hugged her skin tightly. She eased her right arm into the control socket of her arm cannon, letting her fingers rest over the trigger.

Then with her free hand she lowered her helmet into place. The pneumatic seals hissed as they pulled it tight over the collar. Then the HUD began to initialize itself.

  


*Begin Display Initialization*

  


*Life Support Systems Online*

  


*Checking Weaponry Configuration*

Charge Beam-confirmed

Wide Beam-confirmed

Plasma Beam-confirmed

Wave Beam-confirmed

Ice Beam-confirmed

Diffusion Missile-confirmed

  


*Morph Ball Calibrated*

  


*Checking Morph Ball Components*

Bomb-online

Power Bomb-online

  


*Gross Motor Movement System Calibrated*

  


*Varia Temperature Adaption System Calibrated*

  


*Gravity Suit Calibrated*

  


*System Initialized*

  


*Welcome back Samus*

  


The suit hummed and she felt it warm as power began running through it. The indicators on her arm cannon registered fully operational. She whirled around as something metallic bounced against the side of the hull. She traced the sound as it scraped down the opposite side of the ship. _Rope_, she thought. 

She squeezed into the vacant locker, leaving her arm cannon exposed and pointed at the access hatch. 

  


The SWAT team member took one end of the black nylon rope and clipped it to his harness. He motioned to the two men at the top to start pulling him up. He was jerked roughly off the ground and bounced up, pausing at intervals when the men stopped to reset and grab a new stretch of rope. 

As he leveled with the ship, he grabbed the side. One more pull and he dragged his knees over the side. He made an effort to be quiet, but his movement still echoed through the inner workings of the ship. He crawled now, towards the access hatch. The access code appeared on his wrist computer. 

He deliberately punched the code in and the hatch shot open. At first sight, it looked clear. He made a roundabout move, gazing into the cabin from every possible angle. Everything looked secure, perhaps Aran was in another part of the ship.

Swiftly he unhitched his gun from his utility vest, holding the weapon in his right hand. Slowly, ever so slowly he lowered his head through the port, the gun's muzzle following a few inches behind. How surprised he must have been when a face full of plasma sliced his head off and sent his body tumbling down into the cabin.

  


The rest of the team at the cargo door heard the blast. "Go!" yelled the element leader. One of the yanked down on the door lever, and it began lowering. Before it reached the ground they were on the ramp, moving swiftly up it, guns at the ready. Two swung towards the right to check the cockpit. The others filed quickly to the left to check the cabin and berthing space.

They entered the cabin, "slicing the pie", in police parlance, each man entering at different angle and covering a different firing lane. Nothing happened. "Room appears clear, sir."

The team began gathering at the entrance to the berthing space, ready to execute another entry movement. Samus burst from the corridor leading to the kitchen, arm cannon blazing. The panicked yells of the SWAT were quickly stifled as the super-cooled beam smashed into them, freezing them so fast their hearts stopped dead. 

In seconds it was over, the team lay dead, their shocked expressions encased in crystalline ice. They would thaw out in a few hours. 

"Over there!" 

Bullets zinged by, punching holes into the wall nearby. Samus rolled to the side, compacting into the morph ball, then popping back out again. Her HUD highlighted the SWAT's position near the entry ramp. She activated her X-ray visor, turning everything a transparent white. Through the thin lines marking the walls she made out the skeletons of the two SWAT. One was holding his weapon ready, pointing down the hall. The other was whispering into his radio, probably calling for back-up.

She selected the plasma beam and squeezed down on the trigger. The muzzle of the cannon began glowing red hot. Her legs coiled under her, ready to spring like a tiger. She leapt to her left, the SWAT glancing into view for a half second. She released her hold on the trigger and a searing jet of plasma shot from the cannon. 

The stench of the burning flesh overpowered her suit's filters. She resisted the urge to vomit and gingerly stepped by the hissing, bubbling bodies. Her radar listed no contacts. The threat indicator read nothing. 

She brought up her communicator on her wrist. "Markos, do you read?" 

The transmission was garbled and incoherent. Even if Markos could hear her, the citizen bands were probably being heavily monitored. The best thing to do would be to leave the landing pad; the local law enforcement would figure out pretty quickly what had happened to their SWAT team. 

She ran down the stair way, the suit propelling her to greater speed as she vaulted down the case three at a time. The arrows led her to the tram station. Just as she entered, she saw a tram leaving the station. "Damn!" she cursed.

The station was deserted. Business hours were nearly over. Soon people would be returning to their ships. The next tram would probably be full of commuters. The cops were going to have an easy time spotting her, especially in her armor. She needed to find Markos, and get off the planet before anything else happened.

"Hello, Samus."

She whirled around, and let out a gasp. Standing into the shadows was a man clothed in a dark trenchcoat. He looked like he was having difficulty suppressing a grin.

"Maxon!"

  


"Deodorant, toothpaste, water," Markos read from the list in his hand. "That's just about everything except..." he looked down to the last item on the list. "Bras? Christ, I told her not to put anything like that on.

With a heavy sigh he started towards what appeared to be the clothing area. He tried to look inconspicuous as he edged his way towards the women's underwear section. "A, B, C? What the hell is this? How am I supposed to know what size she is?" He wandered about aimlessly in the underwear section. Every time a knowledgeable shopper came by he would try to covertly discern their sizing method, but he learned nothing from it. Mostly all he got was disgusted looks.

Finally a bemused female clerk approached. She had been watching his struggle from afar, and much to his thanks she'd decided he needed help.

"Not used to this area, huh?" she giggled.

"Huh? No, not really." His cheeks began to blush.

"What exactly are you looking for?" she asked.

"That' the problem. I'm supposed to find bras, see?" he held up the crumpled paper, "But I don't know shit about them."

She stiffened slightly. Mentally he berated himself for forgetting the local customs. "Sorry about that. I'm from off-planet."

The clerk smiled warmly, "Don't worry about it. Now about the bras. Are you looking for function or looks?"

Markos thought a moment, then said with finality, "Looks."

She smirked at that, "Well, just follow me."

They passed into a section marked "lingerie". Markos had only heard that word a few times before; he'd never really known what it meant. _High time to find out_.

They stopped at a shelf. She took a black, lacy piece off the rack and held it up to him at eye level. He could see her through the lace. "How's that?" she asked.

"They wear that?" Markos exclaimed.

She laughed, "Of course, what else would they do with it?"

Markos couldn't think of anything else. "Well, what is that?" he demanded, stabbing his finger at pair of black silk stocking. 

"Stockings," she answered. 

"And they wear those, were? On their legs?"

"Yes," she said slowly. "What kind of backwater did you come from?"

He didn't answer, only continued with a flurry of questions and finger pointing. Markos questioned and confirmed, examining each article with intense scrutiny. To him it was unbelievable. Varia was a harsh world. Everything, all energy, had to be devoted to survival. His sex education was squeezed in somewhere between his armor training and tactical studies.

The clerk shook her head, "My, my, I find it hard to believe that a guy as old as you wouldn't be well versed in these things. Haven't you ever had a girlfriend before?"

"No," replied Markos. _Never could. Not enough time._

"Oh," she said quietly. "Will this be all?" she said, holding up the lacy black bra. 

"Yeah, but make it two."

She nodded and rung up the price.

"Forty credits."

Markos reached into his pocket. _This is costing me dearly. She'd better wear the damn things, that's all I've got to say._

"Freeze!"

Instantly he stopped, hand still thrust into his pocket. "Raise your hands slowly!"

He complied, easing his hand out of his pocket and sticking both arms straight up in the air. His hands were spread wide to show they held nothing.

"Now interlock your fingers behind your head!"

He lowered his arms, lacing his fingers together and pressing them to his head. The clerk had done the same.

"Go to your knees and don't move!"

Markos knelt down slowly. He heard the jingling of handcuffs being taken out. _Come on, bastard. I'm ready for you_.

The first cuff clamped around his left hand. Before the second could be set in place he wrenched his hands free. He swung the dangling cuff upward, catching the SWAT officer across the cheek. He stumbled backwards, and Markos rammed his elbow into the cop's gut. 

The SWAT dropped his gun and Markos snatched it up. "Drop the weapon!" bellowed one of the other SWAT.

"Run!" Markos yelled to the clerk.

He ducked behind a display counter as the SWAT opened fire. Glass tinkled as the bullets shattered a mirror into thousands of shards. Markos popped out and shot off a few rounds. One of the SWAT grunted as he went down from the shot. Another ran to help him and Markos down him, as well. 

Markos crawled down the aisle, staying low enough that the SWAT didn't spot him. Around the corner he spied the backs of SWAT, still looking towards his previous cover.

He set the submachine gun to full auto and squeezed down on the trigger. A hail of bullets spread over a wide cone. Puffs of red mist exploded from wounds in the SWAT's bodies. 

The gun clattered to the floor and Markos took off, shoving his way through the crowd of gawkers. "Police, police!" someone screamed. 

_Too late, they're dead._

Markos burst out of the glass doors. Lying on the concrete were several people, facedown in pools of blood. _I hit some bystanders, now the Feddies are really going to be after me. _He slowed down to study the bodies. Large, smoking holes gaped in their mid-sections. _That's too big to have been that gun...and the wounds are burnt._ He forced his hands to stop trembling. _What did this?_

In answer to his question, a car nearby exploded in a brilliant fireball. He was lifted several feet off the ground, then deposited roughly on the concrete by gravity's boundless hands. His head swam as it smacked against the surface. Through blurry eyes he saw an obscure shape, wreathed by the flame's of the wreckage. His vision returned and the image sharpened into a tall, orange and yellow armor suit, with an opaque green visor. The arm cannon was pointed menacingly down at him.

This was the creature Samus had spoken of. The SA-X, a parasitic clone of Samus that retained all her powers. 

Markos fought down panic rising within him, calling on all his years of training to keep from losing his nerve. The SA-X's free hand twitched, adjusting the arm cannon slightly. 

Just as death seemed inevitable, the SA-X whirled to the side. It leapt backward, jetting its space boots and flying shy of the missile that streaked in. The twisting waves of electricity arced from its cannon, sending up cries of agony as it dispatched its assailants.

Markos leapt up in the confusion, making for the subway entrance. The SA-X spotted him moving, fired a prolonged burst at him. He felt his hair stand on end as the charged particles sizzled by his face. A missile streaked in and blasted the stone banister to dust, scattering shards of marble across the stairway.

He pressed on through the cloud of smoke. The SA-X walked to the top of the stairs, surveying the darkened tunnel below. Its sensors picked up no motion. Assuming its quarry dead, it turned and strode back to the street, effortlessly cutting down line of riot officers with its cannon.

  


"Long time no see, Samus," Maxon bared his teeth like an angry wolf, "been a year or so, hasn't it?"

Samus clenched her hand into a fist. "What do you want, Maxon?"

He chuckled, "Are you that out of practice? Please! I came here to get _you._"

"Right," she sneered. "What did I always tell you? Wait until the bounty is most vulnerable." She spread her arms wide, "I'm in my powersuit, how vulnerable do you think that it?"

"Ahhh, you underestimate me, old teacher," derision dripping in his voice, "you are much more vulnerable than you think. I have already alerted Federation control to your presence. Even if you best me, I will still get the reward for locating you."

Samus shot her arm cannon out. "Say I kill you first? What good's the reward then?" She debated mentally about which beam weapon to use; either the plasma beam's slow burning death or the agonizing electrocution of the wave beam. And of course the ice beams creeping frost. 

"Please," Maxon took on a pained look. "I have already foreseen that. Because certain death waits for you if you do not come with me now."

"Hah! Who's going to kill me? You?" she regarded him with scorn. "I taught you everything, Maxon. But I'm still the better hunter."

"Maybe," he rolled his eyes to the ceiling speculatively, "maybe, the best human."

"What?"

"In the outer city at the other end of this tunnel, the SA-X is waiting for you."

Samus lowered her arm cannon slightly, thankful that the rigid armor suit hid her shuddering. Even with prior knowledge that the X lived on, revelation that the SA-X was here, on Polis, was a shock. 

"Doesn't matter," she scoffed, valiantly hiding the fear in her voice. "I've beaten it before; I can do it again."

"No, Samus," Maxon stepped forward, "You can't. You haven't fought in months. It'll beat you; it'll kill you, and you know it." He raised a gloved hand, offering it to her. "Come with me. I can save you."

She looked down at his hand. The polished leather shone keenly in the light. It twitched as she moved towards him. Samus hesitated, staring into his obsidian eyes. "Come on!" he said earnestly, "We don't have much time."

Samus looked past his arm, in the folds of his coat she spied the dull gun metal. His offer was appealing; Markos was probably dead, killed by the SA-X. But Maxon was Maxon. "No." she stepped back.

Maxon shook his head, "That's too bad." He reached into his cloak, Samus tensed into a fighting stance. Instead of the gun she expected, he withdrew a baseball-sized metal sphere, with exposed circuitry running through its hemisphere and across its meridians and latitudes. "This little gizmo cost me quite a bit on the black market."

He depressed a small red button with his thumb, then whipped the ball towards her. Before she could react, the object clanged against her armor, sticking to it like glue. She felt the pressure receptors of her suit suddenly give out, and it hardened around her, freezing her in that position. Her HUD became garbled and static, then blacked out completely.

Maxon chuckled, taking out a small tool kit. "That's been several years in design. Interrupts power armor technology." He popped the kit open and brought out a syringe filled with green fluid.

_Traniquilizer,_ Samus thought. She frantically tried to move her arm, but no matter how hard she strained, the armor wouldn't budge. Maxon raised the needle, ready to plunge it into her arm and inject the tranquilizer. _Great, I'm finished._

From the side of her view plate an outstretched hand jabbed fiercely into Maxon's neck. The bounty hunter crumpled and his attacker walked into view. "Markos!"

He turned towards her, "What's wrong?" he asked.

" My suit's out! Get that thing off me!"

He followed her eyes to the ord, glowing with electricity. A kick sent the orb skittering across the floor, were it coughed smoke and sparks before exploding in a tiny _pop_. Her suit immediately warmed up, and the HUD flickered back into view. She tested her movement, taking a few quick steps and squeezing her fist. "I'm good, let's-look out!"

Markos ducked and Maxon's pistol flew over his head. He shot his hands up and grabbed Maxon by the arm, wrenching the gun from his hands and then throwing him roughly into the wall. He brought the gun butt around in a wide arc, smacking Maxon across the jaw. The bounty hunter tumbled down, spitting saliva-blood onto the floor.

Presently Markos brought the pistol's hammer back, taking careful aim at the prostrate form below him. He was just about to pull the trigger when, "Stop!"

Both men looked up at her, Markos in disbelief, Maxon with the same, as well as some relief. "Why?"

Samus didn't answer. She didn't know herself; why not kill Maxon and be done with it? She looked down to the bounty hunter, cuddled pitifully on the ground. "I'll explain later, come on!"

Markos lowered his gun but kept his eyes trained on Maxon. He glanced hesitantly between his submissive enemy and Samus. "Why?" 

"Just come on!" Samus bellowed.

With great reluctance Markos turned, and the two began running down the tunnel towards the landing bays.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

  


The ship shot off the landing pad as Samus flared the boosters. Markos flipped on the rear cameras and the image appeared on the bulkhead monitor. The outer city was awash in flame, and the tram tunnel was collapsed by a missile. "Look at that," he whispered.

Samus glanced up at the monitor and nodded grimly. "The SA-X."

"I saw it," Markos murmured, massaging the shoulder he had fallen on. 

Samus slowly took her hands on the controls. She reached up and popped the seals on her helmet. They hissed as she lifted it off her head and placed it on the console. Her golden hair spilled down over the shoulder of her suit. It was disheveled and puffy from her helmet. 

"It fights like a demon," Markos said. "Is that how you fight?"

"Yes," she shook her head, "but I don't kill people like that."

"What does it want?"

Samus gripped the controls with white knuckles. "They want everything."

Markos slumped down in the chair, "Yeah, I kind of figured." He switched off the rear cameras. "Can anyone stop them?" he asked.

She set the ship onto autopilot. "I can."

"How?" 

"I was attacked by the X months ago, at SR388. Biologic was able to save me by using metroid DNA to kill the X. I still have that DNA. I'm virtually invulnerable."

_Metroid DNA? Does this have something to do with my mission? _"But doesn't that SA-X have all your powers? It can still hurt you, I would think."

Samus grunted, "It can still use its suit capabilities to attack and injure me, but it can't infect me like it could a normal human."

_Wait... that must be it. We need her so that we can fight these X._

"Were to now?" she asked, brining up the navigational computer.

Markos leaned closer to examine it, "I don't know, we're going to have to go on another random course to throw off your friend down there."

"Maxon will try and use the STC database to track us. Now that the Federation found us with their SWAT, it'll be no problem for him to find us using the database."

"You know that guy?" asked Markos.

She sighed, "He was my apprentice a few years ago. Not a bad hunter, just too cocky for his own good."

"Can he really track us using STC?" asked Markos.

"Undoubtedly. Unless the Federation discovered the hole he used to hack their system, which is unlikely."

"We should have just killed him when we had the chance!" barked Markos. 

A pained look flashed over Samus' face, "I'm not one to go around killing everyone."

"Sometimes you have to," Markos stood up, scowling darkly, "sometimes you don't have any choice."

She got up and followed him into the cabin. "What's your problem?"

"The question is, what's yours?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "There was no good reason to keep that bastard alive. No we've got to hope that the SA-X will finish him off. If it doesn't, then getting out of here is going to be tough."

"Is that what they teach you in Varia? That the only thing to do with an enemy is kill it?" she snarled at him.

"What else is there to do with an enemy? Why are you so defensive about this? You know as well as I do the most prudent thing to have done would be to kill this Maxon."

She knew he was right. Maxon would have an easy time hunting them now. 

"Why didn't you let me kill him?" demanded Markos. 

"I don't know," she murmured, turning away. 

"You do know!" Markos said, walking directly behind her. "Why?"

She shook her head, then whispered, "Because I loved him once."

Markos took a step back. Fresh tears splashed down on the metal floor. He reached out a hand, but the ring of the phone stopped him. He hurried past her into the cockpit. As he depressed the answer button, a uniformed Federation officer appeared on the screen.

"If it isn't the great Markos," he said, a smile playing across his face, "Once again you have proven yourself able to elude our most meticulous traps. I must congratulate you."

"Save it, Smithson. And next time send somebody a little more competent than some traffic cops," sneered Markos.

Samus came into the cockpit, red eyed and drawn. _Smithson, _she thought. _Smithson...a rather infamous Federation counterespionage officer. He must've been trying to find us too._

"It's too bad you couldn't enjoy yourselves on Polis," he said. "But I'm afraid that SA-X character has really turned the place upside down.'

"What do you want?" asked Markos. "I don't have time for your bullshit."

"I'm simply calling to give you a warning; you know how I despise an unfair game of chase. Just know this, Markos; we are on to you and Aran. There is nothing you can do to stop us this time."

The screen faded into the Federation crest, then went black. Markos pounded the chair, "Damn Smithson! We'll be pursued from every direction."

He brought up the navigational map, "There are some fighter bases in this system; they're probably patrolling for us. I think we can slip by them and land here," he indicated to a white dot on the screen. "There's a small port. We should be able to ditch this ship and get another one."

Samus nodded meekly. He was all-business, this Markos, she had to give him that. 

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she muttered, "I just need some sleep." She left the cockpit and threw herself onto her bunk, then quickly drifted of to sleep.

It was a long while before Maxon got it in himself to move. His jaw ached, and whenever he touched it pain went shooting up his cheek. Slowly he got to his feet, standing unsteadily in a daze. He wiped blood from his lips, then spat out something hard. One of his teeth skittered on the concrete, the pearly white surface stained with crimson. "He's going to pay for that," Maxon declared to himself.

_Of all the times for my luck to turn bad. I would've had her,_ he thought, looking down at the smashed syringe. The green poison oozed freely over the concrete, its toxic properties now neutralized by long exposure to open air. _She should be dead by now, and I should be sitting on three million credits by now. Damn that bitch!_

Then hard steps sounded on the stairs at the end of the tunnel. Immediately he knew who was coming down; the appearance of the SA-X only confirmed his fears. The strength ran out of his legs and he collapsed against a stone pillar, sliding down to the ground. The SA-X walked closer, the gold light reflecting off its armor. 

It now stood a few feet from him, staring intently. Maxon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _I guess its over now. Man, what a lousy time to go, in the middle of the biggest job of my life._ It lifted its arms up and Maxon cringed, shutting his eyes against whatever _coup de grace _the SA-X had planned for him.

No shot came, nor any face crushing blow from the metal hands, only a pop and hiss. Maxon opened his eyes to see the SA-X, its helmet resting on the ground. Its face was just like Samus, sam features and all, except the eyes had no pupil. They were full white, like the eyes of some blind cave-dwelling reptile. 

The SA-X spoke. "We should kill him now, he is no use to Us." Its voice was mechanical, and the pitch rose and fell erratically, as though it was unused to speaking. "Yes. We should take him now. Think of all the knowledge he may possess."

The SA-X twitched, then said, "Perhaps he could be some use to Us." It reached down and pulled him up by his collar, then thrust him against the pillar. "But only if it does what We ask it? Will it do what We ask?"

Maxon gulped, "I must have something in return."

It laughed at him, and the sound was a horrible, wheezing one. It did not sound like laughter at all. The doppelgänger laughed long and hard, and its shoulders shook with mirth. "He is wise, but doesn't realize it is in no position to bargain. Doesn't he realize We could kill him easily as an insect?" hissed the SA-X, and it flitted its tongue out like a snake.

"I want Samus Aran dead," he said.

"Ah! He wants the same thing We want. Very well. We will help you get what you want."

Then the SA-X's face seemed to slide off, revealing a pulsating green mass that spilled out onto the floor. The free roaming X oozed up and covered Maxon's feet, and panic began to well in him. He tried to run, but the X held his feet firmly. They moved up his legs now, covering him all the way up to his waist.

The headless SA-X reached out its arms, and more green goo burst from them, covering his torso. Soon only his head remained untouched by the X. He felt a biting cold making its way up his neck. "Remember," he heard a voice say. "This is all We can do. We cannot help you any more than this. The Great Host is powerful, be wary!"

He tried to scream but the X choked out his yell. Now his mouth was covered, and his vision obscured by a roiling, teeming mass of X.

Then, quite suddenly, the cold sensation ended, and he found himself standing in the tunnel, wearing a power suit. The HUD flickered into view, and a message scrolled up the visor. "We cannot remove from this form now. Therefore it is left up to you to destroy the Great Host. Beware, the Great Host holds the blood of our enemies. We cannot bring ourselves to bear against her. You must do this."

Maxon shook his head, trying to make sense of the message. So the X had molded themselves into the mechanical suit, in the process destroying their parasitic capabilities. What he wore was really a mass of X cells, but they had lost all their powers. All they could do now was shield him and arm him, just like any real power suit would do. 

He felt the strength flowing in him. Now he had real power; Samus and her invader friend would be at his mercy. Seizing on impulse, he clenched his fist and sent it towards the stone pillar. There was a great crash of dust as the gauntlet plunged all the way to the elbow into the stone. He could wiggle his fingers in open air on the other side. A grin creased his face. _Things are going my way, once again._

  


Samus awoke in pitch darkness. From the main room she heard the soft breathing of Markos. "Lights on," she said quietly. She saw Markos lying curled up on the floor next to his armor, covered in a thin blanket. He stirred in his sleep and rolled over, mumbling incoherently. 

She sat down in the cockpit and flicked on the newscasts, keeping the volume low to not disturb Markos. "Vaccinations from the X have been distributed through the Federation, and the High Command is confident that the X are now powerless to spread further through the Federation."

That was good news, though the Federation was no longer listed as an ally. The innocent people there didn't deserve to die at the hands of the X. Still, the X could still fight, and there must have been other SA-X. They would be causing great ruin, and the Federation would be powerless to stop them. 

Markos appeared in the doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He sat down wordlessly and brought up the nav computer on an auxiliary screen. After a moment of study, he said, "We're a few more hours from Thullos, maybe even a day. It's a regular hell hole, but I think the Feddies won't be quick to chase us their. We just have to get past those fighter patrols."

He looked to her, "What kind of armament does this baby have?"

She shrugged, "The usual, missiles, lasers."

"Think it can get through fighters?"

She didn't answer, just raised the volume on the newscast.

Markos sighed and turned his attention to the cast. "In other news, Polis' landing bays and outer city were laid waste by Samus Aran."

"What?" Markos hissed, leaning forward.

The screen cut to a shot of the SA-X, blasting away in the city. Then it advanced towards the camera, and the image became jostled and choppy, then the camera tumbled and smashed onto the concrete. The image exploded into snow, then cut back to the anchor. 

"Aran's ship left Polis soon after this. She has officially been declared as an enemy of the state by the High Command. Again, it is stressed that any information leading to Aran will be duly rewarded."

Samus shut off the monitor and leaned heavily back in the chair. "There's going to be a lot of fighters," she murmured, idly twisting a strand of golden hair in her fingers. "We may not be able to get through."

Markos shook his head, "We can do it. If we can get out of that trap at Polis, we can do anything." Silence fell. At length Markos spoke again, "I'm sorry about what I said. I'm afraid I still don't understand your reasons, but I'm sorry to have questioned them like that."

Samus shrugged, "We were brought up different, I guess. Besides, there's some sense in your thinking; he's a bastard anyway."

Markos smiled slightly. "Thanks for understanding. On Varia, we are taught to never let an enemy survive." He touched the scar across his neck, "I earned this when I killed my first Pirate. I've never thought much about it till now, only about the glory I felt when I reached that milestone. When I was asleep, I had a dream. Or a nightmare, I guess. I don't know, I've never dreamed something so frightening. 

"When I killed that Pirate, I had spent all my missiles. A lucky chop destroyed my arm cannon, and took one of my fingers." He raised up his right hand, and saw the index finger was of slightly lighter hue than the rest of his hand, and there was a faint scar that ran around the first joint. "All I had was my knife. I pulled it out and leapt at it, driving the blade into its throat. Its blood oozed over me and my body."

He shook his head sadly, "During my dream I relieved that a thousand times, and each time the Pirates death scream echoed in my mind a thousand times louder than before. I guess I realized how bad killing really is, even against something hideous like that."

Markos rubbed his brow. "I don't know, I still think that Maxon should be dead. But that may have taught me something."

Samus saw now that he was crying, though he made no noise. He brushed the moisture from his cheek and stared dumbfounded at his glistening fingers. "I have never cried since I can remember. Varian children stop their crying at birth."

She reached out a hand, gently touching his with her finger tips. Pity softened her expression as she took his hand and gripped it tightly. "What kind of a place do you come from?" she whispered. "What kind of place does love not exist?"

Markos sniffed back his tears, "Varia is a hard place. It takes hard people to just survive there. It takes the most rugged folks to build a culture there." 

"Will we go there?" she asked.

He nodded, "I haven't heard from my superiors yet. I have no choice but to take you to Varia."

"What are your people like?"

"I told you; hard and rugged."

"What place do I have among them, then?"

Markos raised his eyebrows, "You are legend among them, Samus. They will accept you, though you may be forced to face the trials all warriors must go through."

Her blue eyes stared longingly into his, dark pools, though it seemed all his malice had gone out of his gaze. 

Suddenly she stood up and walked in front of him. Then, seized by some unknown compulsion, she bent down and planted a kiss upon his lips. Markos eyes went wide and he met it stiffly, but Samus held it long. When she finally parted, he stared dumbfounded up at her. At length, he said in astonishment, "What was that?"

"Haven't you ever been kissed before?" she asked.

He gasped, "I have heard of such a thing, though I did not know exactly what it was. It is a tradition lost on Varia. 

She took her other and covered his. He squeezed back hard. She couldn't say that she had ever held much of a lasting relationship with anybody; she felt more secure among the Chozo than with humans. But to never have kissed someone? Not even to be kissed by your own parents?

"How could you live in a place like that?" she asked.

He smiled plastically, "It is the only place I have known. I love it," he spoke as though the word fell from his lips with great difficulty.

Samus took his other hand and lightly brought him to his feet. Her eyes gave off a glint, "Come with me, Markos," she pressed her soft cheek against his, feeling the roughness of his weather worn face. "Come with me," she whispered softly in his ear, and her lips brushed against his cheek, "and I'll show you what love really is."

  


It was near midnight when the freighter ship _Gottkind _and its escort of mercenaries discovered Samus's ship. The _Gottkind_ was transporting frozen foodstuffs and some alcoholic beverages, spiced rum and malt whiskey from Glen Eyrie, to be exact. Perfectly legitimate, though deep in its holds, the _Gottkind_ held a rather large shipment of Hallucirate, a potent hallucinogen mixed with barbiturate. It was popular with many unsavory characters throughout the Milky Way.

Around 2358 GST the first mate of the _Gottkind _received a report from the mercenary fighter carrier _Cerdova_. The mercenaries were onboard for a substantial pay; Hallucirate was coveted by many other traders in the criminal world, and it required ample protection. Already the mercenaries had fought off several attacks, including one by the Space Pirates. No doubt they used revenue from the drug to finance their diabolical experiments.

But that was of little concern to the flotilla. Their port was still several weeks away. 

"Boatswain?" came the voice of the mercenary commander. 

"What is it?" the first mate asked, ignoring the derogatory title. Boatswain was reserved for the true wet navies that sailed above and below the sea. The first mate had served once in the Federation's space navy, but retired with haste when he realized the business opportunities available to him. Crime paid better than service, though it was a trifle more dangerous.

"One of my fighters is detecting a signature about two hundred kilometers out, and closing fast."

"Does he have a mark on it?"

There was a pause while the commander consulted the pilot. "He's got it," said the commander.

"Patch him in," said the first mate.

The fighter pilot's voice seemed distant; after all, he was nearly five hundred kilometers away. "My computer's pinpointed it," said the pilot. "We've got a Mark III pursuit ship incoming, new Federation design. Supposed to be deadly as hell in close combat."

"Damn it all," whispered the first mate. "What's the current course on the Feddie?"

"Closing fast, he'll intersect our path in maybe thirty seconds."

"What do you think commander?"

The mercenary answered quickly, "Let's get the hell out of here. The Feddies have been pulling lots of surprise inspections of freighters recently."

"I always told the captain not to register this hunk of junk as a freighter. Should've pretended it was a pleasure cruisers, maybe we could get some women on here at least."

"Shut up," sneered the first mate to the complaining sailor. "Get that hack working on the ship, I want to know it's ID code," he said.

"Why?"

"Just do it!" he snarled.

"Fifteen seconds," came the voice of pilot.

"Dive thirty five degrees, full steam!" he heard the mercenary captain yell. The cruiser began to dip sharply and its drives flared as it shot low to avoid the approaching ship.

"Contact now!" screamed the pilot.

The purple ship shot across the prow of the _Gottkind_. The first mate resisted the impulse to hurl himself to the ground. "Get a ID on that?" he asked.

"Affirmative, checking it."

"The Mark III is not turning, just passed us by, its-evasive action!" the pilot bellowed.

Another ship shot alarmingly close by the freighter, like a silver bullet it zoomed by. "Jesus Christ!" swore the first mate. "What was that?" 

"I don't know, its not showing up on the scopes!"

"Got an ID up! That's Aran's ship!"

The first mate caught his breath. There was a handsome award for bringing down Aran. But if they brought in the bounty hunter, the Federation might get a little too interested in their shipping business. They were already starting to get suspicious. "Hold your course, gentlemen," he said. "There's no money in the endeavor."

The _Gottkind_ and the _Cerdova_ continued to stream through te black.

  


The silver streak that plowed through the formation was none other than Maxon. He sat in the cockpit of his ship, still wearing the suit of X cells. He was loath to remove it, for fear that the power and awareness that seemed to awaken in him would leave. In the distance he could see Samus' purple ship, bracketed by gold indicators on his HUD.

The Federation had fighter sweeps running this way and that through the entire sector. He did not doubt that Samus could fight her way through those rather easily. But he needed to wait until they landed before he made his move; without recovering Samus body, he had no proof except gun tapes that she was dead. That would please the Federation well enough, though he knew that the reward would be far less lucrative unless he brought Samus' head to the High Command.

He settled back in the chair as much as the bulky armor would let him. The stars glowed brightly like heavenly spears piercing out of the void. His ship hurtled noiselessly through space, undetected by Samus only a few kilometers ahead. He was using an old trick Samus herself had taught him; flying in the subatomic wake left by the ship. The particles scrambled his radar signature, making him invisible. Unless she happened to turn on her rear monitors and spy the tiny silver craft, they would never know he was there.

Maxon was mighty pleased with himself. This new suit would propel him to great heights. Once Samus and the invader were finished, his armor would aid greatly in making his fortune for himself. It was happening slowly, he knew. The Federation was collapsing. Then Maxon could make his grab for power. He could take a planet if he wanted! Or perhaps an entire system! Damn the X and the invaders.

Thoughts of the X came to him, and he was gripped by a sudden fear that left a cold in his chest. They could betray him, once his work was done. Once Samus was dead, the X could hunt him down and kill him. Fear for his own life crept up on him, and he found he was afraid. Then he thought of himself, standing as a king over some rich, fat system, and all fear disappeared, as though he had exhaled it and the filters in the suit cleansed it from the atmosphere.

He checked Samus' course; it was foolishly straight. They were making a beeline for Thullos. He grimaced at the thought of the hellishly hot and bitterly cold planet. It would be a rough hunting ground, but he felt confident. If he could draw them outside of the city, he may be able to use the environment to his advantage.

After setting the ship on autopilot, Maxon went back to the small cramped cabin. First he would buy a new ship after this was over; having to double his equipment room as a sleeping area would not do. Perhaps a large cruiser, or maybe a pleasure yacht, that would be fit for a king.

He opened a tall locker and took out three small armor disrupter devices. With the press of a button the arm cannon slid off. He opened up a maintenance panel and began making adjustments, which surprised him. Maxon had never serviced powered armor, yet he found himself doing it with the greatest of ease. He could swear he heard a little voice in his helmet giving him instructions.

Soon his work as completed, he took one of the disrupters and rammed it down the muzzle of the arm cannon. He attached the two others along the barrel, then slid the cannon over his arm. It snapped firmly into place and registered functional on his HUD, though it gave him a warning about improper modification. He ignored it, going back to his seat in the cockpit.

They were nearing Thullos now. Soon, Samus would be in his grasp. Soon Maxon Zell would have victory.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

  


Samus awoke fatigued, but with a lingering pleasure that tingled all up her spine. She looked to the chronometer that burned on the far wall; it was nearly 0800. Though it was well passed her usual rising hour, she felt no great desire or motive to move from that spot. She looked to her left at Markos, sleeping soundly amid a jumble of sheets. 

His eyes opened slowly and he smiled as he saw her. "Good morning," she cooed. 

"Is it morning already?" he yawned and stretched dramatically. 

"Yes," she said, throwing off the covers. "Lights on," she said, and the room was awash in pale light. Markos squinted against it, then looked over to her.

She stood by the bed naked, rummaging through her small closet. She found the shorts she wore under her armor and slipped them on. "What's that from?" asked Markos.

"What?" she said.

"The scar," he said.

She looked down. There was a jagged pink line that ran across her abdomen, just above the waist of her shorts, like some canyon that marred the perfect landscape of her skin. "Oh, that," she blushed. "There's some weak flexible part in my armor there; a Pirate got his scythe into it."

Markos nodded in admiration, "You should be proud of such a trophy. Few warriors live to bear such a scar from a Space Pirate."

Suddenly the room was filled with the sound of alarms. Samus cursed and threw on a t-shirt, then ran into the cockpit, followed closely by an indecent Markos. She took the pilot's seat and smashed down the alarms, shutting off the incessant whining.

"What's going on?" asked Maxon.

She looked at the sweeping radar to see three red blips coming fast towards her, and seven more behind those. The computer quickly identified them as Federation fighters.

"Aran! Surrender yourself! You have been declared a terrorist and criminal! Surrender and your punishment may not be so harsh!"

Samus angrily struck the radio, cutting off communication with the fighter. She cinched the restraints tight over her body. "Strap in, they're going to his us a wild ride."

Despite his nakedness, Markos complied, tightening the straps until they burnt his bare flesh.

The fighters could be seen now. Flying straight towards them as they were, they appeared only as thin red disks. Samus took the control yoke, massaging the triggers under her hands. "Hold on!"

She banked hard right and the fighters zoomed past, but quickly came around for another pass. Red lasers sliced into the blackness, and the cockpit shone red as blood as they came frighteningly close. Samus jammed down hard on the controls, sending the Mark III into a steep dive. 

One of the fighters appeared directly in front of her, it made no move to avoid her. As soon as the computer locked on, she eased back on the trigger. The Federation pilot, realizing his peril too late, tried to evade the attack. He climbed swiftly, and two bolts of laser shot under him. Samus followed his movement, and the next two shots struck home. The fighter exploded and bathed Samus in a pale light.

The other seven were nearby now, and they darted like great flies all about her. She shot a missile at one and it spiraled out of control, before exploding in a shower of sparks and frozen coolant. Samus now readied the lasers, and stitched a line of smoking holes up the flank of the fighter. It bounced and gyrated crazily, then its pilot regained control, though if plodded along slower than it should have. It proved simple to lock on and dispatch the maimed ship with a missile.

Only seven remained. There was a jolt the ship took a hit to the rear. Samus hit a button on the console and the rear turret popped out from under the fuselage. It sprayed out a hail of metal flechettes, but the fighters nimbly avoided the attack. She saw one on her radar darting underneath to destroy the turret.

"No you don't!" she said, yanking back on the controls. The ship started in a long, looping climb. When it reached its apex, the ship seemed to hand before it began plummeting straight down at the bewildered fighter. 

Samus squeezed the trigger and a dozen emerald lances shot out and sliced into it, blowing the ship to pieces in an instant. Fragments bounced and pinged off the hull as Samus roared through the roiling wreckage, then burst out the other side. 

A klaxon went off as a missile streaked towards the ship. Samus kicked hard on the foot pedals and the ship slid as across space laterally, as if it had been pushed. The missile streaked by, diminishing into a golden point, then disappeared. "You lost it," said Markos in a congratulatory tone. 

Samus shook her head. "No, the burn trail is facing towards us, we just can't see it. Its making another pass."

Markos soon saw the silver bullet speeding towards them. It was becoming awfully large in the viewport. He shifted uneasily in his seat, and the fabric chafed against his skin. It was so close now he could nearly read the serial number on the nosecone. 

She pulled up at the last possible moment, and the missile passed a hair's breadth from the underbelly of the ship. It flew into the pursuing fighter formation, and they scrambled to avoid their own weapon. One was not so quick, and smacking into the missile head on.

"Five left," she whispered.

One fell to her lasers. Another was blasted by a missile, and shrapnel from that explosion clogged the drives of another and sent it careening off into the void. Now only one remained; its pilot exhibited great skill than his comrades. He never let her get a clear shot at him, and he even managed to connect a few shots against the ship. But the Mark III's armor was thick, and the lasers did little but scuff the finish.

He was directly behind her now, and it was apparent that conventional methods could not beat this pilot. Now matter how mind-bending the maneuver she tried, the fighter remained fixed firmly on her tail, as though it was attached by string. Thinking quickly, Samus rammed the throttle as fast as it would go. Her opponent sped up as well, matching the blistering pace.

Lasers seared nearby. The pilot was drawing a bead on the ship when Samus threw the throttle backwards, nearly shutting off the drives.

The pilot slammed on his decelerator, and the Mark III loomed huge before him. He realized that no matter how hard he pressed the brakes they were going to collide. He was just about to pull off when the whole space before him shown a pale blue. There was searing heat and his canopy cracked, then his ship exploded as the fuel touched off from the larger ship's wake.

Samus sighed in relief and took her hands off the controls. Markos chuckled. "That was the greatest piloting I have ever seen. Even if you couldn't make it any Varia as an armored soldier, they would surely accept you as a pilot."

She smiled and reset the course for Thullos. It was nearly as big as her thumb print now, an opaque gray sphere set in the crushed velvet purple. "We're just a few more hours," she said.

Markos nodded, "Lets land outside of the cities. There's a deep forest on the southern continent, no one ever goes there. Its easy to slip through STC there. We can remain unnoticed until we have to get a new ship.

She brought up the planetary data, "It says that Thullos is in its winter season now." Markos grinned sheepishly as she looked over at his naked form, "Get some clothes, you're liable to freeze to death. And wash that chair."

  


Maxon cursed Samus, the Federation, the invader, the X, and his ship as he hurtled through the cloud of debris created by Samus debacle. He had wisely elected to wait out the battle on the fringe before resuming his hunt. It seemed Samus had left a little surprise for him. Tiny slivers of metal hung in the air like clouds, and the needles pierced into his ship. He even detected hull breeches in some places.

"I'll have to land in the city for repairs first," he grumbled, slowly pulling his ship off Samus' course. He knew they would make for the uninhabited areas. But then what? Would they wait there or would they come into town and try to steal a ship? There was no way to tell. His best bet would be to search the outlying areas himself and use some local thugs as spies in case they made for the city.

He tapped his knee impatiently, creating a faint metallic sound that echoed loudly in the cramped cockpit. There was still around four hours left before reentry into Thullos. He was growing tired of waiting.

Time passed slowly. The four hours seemed like an eternity to Samus. When it was finally time for reentry, she called Markos forward and they strapped into the chairs. "Make for these coordinates," Markos said as he typed them quickly into the computer. "There's some landing zones there. STC doesn't even watch that area, its so small. We should be home free from then on."

He closed down the navigational computer, "How's the ship?" he asked.

Samus activated the cameras all around. They panned about the surface of the ship, showing some superficial scorch marks, but nothing worse than that. "Looks all right, we-shit!"

Markos followed her gazed to the monitor. It was focusing on the area of the right engine well. There was a series of three long, parallel gashes, like some predatory cat had raked its claws over the hull. Armor was curled back and she could see the components inside. "Doesn't look good," he said.

"No," she agreed, "but it may not be deep enough to affect the engine. We've got to try. Orbital maintenance isn't going to be too keen on helping us."

"Us being interplanetary terrorists and all," Markos snorted. "Damn the Feddies and their lies!"

Thullos filled the canopy now. They were aimed straight for a cloud covered spot over the southern mainland. "Here we go!"

Markos saw the beginnings of flame dancing over the canopy, and as they plunged deep into the atmosphere, the air all around them ignited, licking the sides of the ship. The craft began to buck horribly, and Markos feared his teeth would be jarred out. He'd heard about that happening once, but that had been on a small patrol boat during a naval bombardment. Still, he didn't see it as altogether unlikely.

The vibration increased in violence and he heard loose articles rattling about in the cabin. Then there was a particularly violent bump, as if they had run over a curb, and the right wing of the ship bounced high. They were thrown against their restraints hard. Samus grunted and cursed, "That was the engine! We may not have enough thrust to get to the LZ. This thing's not built for atmospheric. 

Markos wiped sweat off his forehead. Condensation was dripping off the metallic roof like rain. Though it was winter on Thullos, the high speed reentry was hellishly hot. He felt like he was suffocating, like he was being cooked alive in an oven. 

Then they broke through the cloud layer, bursting down and plummeting like a stone. Air screamed and whistled like howling wolves as they rocketed downward. Samus found her prediction had been correct. The thrust was far too weak to reach the landing zone. They might not even be able to pull out of the dive.

She fought the controls, but it seemed the ship had a life of its own, and it wanted to kill itself. Her strain was paying off, but barely, the nose pitched up two degree, three degrees, four degrees, it was rising, but agonizingly slow.

Suddenly the ship seemed to fly out from under her. The rear heavy craft kept nosing up until it was almost perpendicular to the ground. Trees bent and twisted against the craft, and it came slammed down on the canopy, turning dozens of pines to splinters. It plowed through nearly five hundred yards of forest before settling to a stop, smoking and sputtering. 

  


Markos awoke first. He ached horribly, and his skin was purpling were he had been thrust against the restraints. He coughed; the cockpit was filled with thick black some. Samus lay asleep in her chair, arms hanging limply over the side.

Slowly he unbuckled himself and walked to Samus. The ship had landed askew, and the path was sharply uphill. It was difficult going on the smooth metal, but he made it, anchoring himself against the control yoke. 

He unbuckled Samus harness and her eyes fluttered open. "Were are we?" she said groggily. Markos helped her out of the chair and steadied her as she stumbled. 

"We took a hard landing," he said. The smoke had lifted and was now streaming out of cracked canopy. 

Samus shivered, "Its freezing," she said. Steam puffed from her mouth as she spoke. 

"We've got to leave, they may be on to us," said Markos. 

They went into the cabin. Equipment was strewn all over the floor, and their armor was thrown against the lower wall, twisted and bent like circus contortionists. Markos swore and rubbed his hands together vigorously. "Let's get in our armor, those'll be the best in this damn cold."

Samus took up her armor and quickly sealed it. The warmth of the suit flowed into her, smoothing out the gooseflesh that had formed against the chill. 

Markos was slower getting into his armor. It was much bulkier and thicker. Samus saw now that it was festooned with various markings. Upon the right black shoulder there was a pale white ghost, white except for its glowing red eyes. Then under the tattered trail of the shade was a long sword. On the opposite leg a red shield with the number fifty-two set in gold. At his waist a bronze handled knife was thrust into a sheath. The handle was carved into the likeness of a roaring lion. 

He saw her eyeing the emblems on his suit. With a black metal finger he pointed to the ghost, "The symbol of my branch, intelligence." Then he tapped the shield, "My mother unit, the 52nd Heavy Armor." Then he half drew the blade at his waist. It shone keenly, "This is my knife, the knife all Varians receive on the day of their acceptance as a warrior." His voice took on a tone of reverence as he spoke. "I will show you my home soon. The 52nd is the greatest group I have ever lived with. Soon we'll go home," he said.

She saw now the homesickness in him. He had lived a long time in the Federation, separated from his home on Varia by many light-years. Then she caught what he had said, "Varia's not my home," she said, her voice made tinny by her helmet. 

Markos nodded, but in his suit his shoulders only dipped slightly, "No, not yet anyway. But I know you'll like it there. The Varians have a warrior spirit. You've got that same spirit."

Samus went to the overturned equipment locker. She took out a thick nylon box and tossed it to Markos. "That's enough food for around five days in that."

Markos looked at the rather small bag, "Five days?"

"It may not look like much, and it doesn't taste like much, but the stuff will keep us on our feet," she said. "Now I'm going to see if the navigational computer to see were we are."

Markos rummaged through the rest of the gear, finding nothing of use. As an afterthought he grabbed his repair equipment and jammed it into a spare compartment. Samus returned. "No good," she muttered. "The nav computer's shot."

"It's all right. We're somewhere in the south forest. The city's large; if we go due north we should ht the edges of it, at worst."

"How far?" asked Samus.

"Around fifty miles. If we hoof it, we can make the city in five days. Barring any problems."

"Well, there's no reason to waste more time," Samus said. She kicked down the landing hatch and it swung heavily down. Before them was the pine forest, spreading wide before them like an endless army, bristling with a dozen arms and a thousand green darts each. For some reason she could not explain, the forest was threatening.

"Let's go."

They left the ship behind and began their trek, Markos leading since he knew the planet better. Their pace was rapid, but their muscles felt no fatigue as their suits pushed along with their legs. Dust flew from their feet as they sped through the game trails in the forest. 

"I once had to flee here when the Federation caught wind of me. They were quick, and I was afraid that I would be caught."

"How did you escape?" Samus asked, the first inkling of fatigue showing in her breath.

"I turned behind them, and killed their rearguard. Then I burned a hole in my armor and sealed the body in my armor. Then it took his laser rifle and hid in the woods nearby. When his companions found the suit, I shot them all down."

After that they did not speak for a long while. Soon even with her suit Samus felt fatigue creeping up on her, burning her legs and constricting her lungs as though some snake had wrapped about his ribs. The sun began to sink below the treetops, blazing red as it fell between the trunks of the pines.

Even as darkness fell Markos urged Samus on, forcing her to keep running until night was several hours old. At last they stopped and Samus collapsed thankfully onto the bed of pine needles. Snow began falling, large flakes that hung long in the air. It came down thick and heavy, and soon the ground was covered and all the trees were crowned with ivory. 

"Why did we run so far? At this rate we will be there in two days."

Markos didn't answer. He peered out into the snow, wiping flakes away from his visor with his hand. It was dark, darker than usual. Snakes of cold air slithered through the joints in his armor. Even the Varia temperature system couldn't stave off the biting cold of Thullos. He cursed as he looked at the thermometer on his HUD; negative thirty- five degrees.

The snow swirled about him, seeming to take shape; snowy phantoms that walked towards him, reaching with icy arms, then scattered away in a great gale. Samus saw them too, and they reminded her chillingly of the Chozo spirits on Tallon IV. 

"I can sense something out there," he whispered. "Whether it's real or just my nerves playing tricks with me, I'm not sure."

He looked down at her. "Get some sleep quickly. We must move within two hours."

Samus was awakened rudely in only forty-five minutes. Markos pulled her too her feet; she was half-buried in snow. It was coming down harder now, and it lay thick about Markos' ankles. "Sorry," he apologized, "the snow is coming down too fast. If we wait longer, we'll move too slowly."

He looked skyward. The snow cascaded down in great columns of white. "I saw your friend Maxon's ship pass. He would've seen the crash by now. He'll be hunting us."

"But he can't catch us on foot in this cold," she said.

This did nothing to comfort Markos. They began running, and Samus find that she had a renewed strength. She ran even with Markos now, pumping her arms as they ran. The snow was like a wall that they ran against needlessly, throwing themselves against it. Now it was Markos' strength who failed.

He collapsed, and quickly tried to struggle to his feet. Samus hoisted him up. "We've got to keep going," he gasped through his helmet. They continued on, but soon after he fell again, and this time Samus did not try to raise him.

"We need rest," Samus said as she sat against a pine tree across the trail. "Let's move again in an hour."

Markos didn't answer. He had already fallen asleep.

Samus struggled to remain awake. After consulting her mapping system, she found they had traveled fifteen miles in less than two and a half hours. She wished she had a true map for this planet, but with no map, there was only a small yellow line drawn from their starting point a the crash site. Perhaps Markos new the way, then again he may not. She would've felt much better if she knew were she was really going.

Suddenly her helmet beeped and she sat up straight. A gold dot appeared on her motion sensor, far way behind her, at the very edge of the sensor. She turned around and the dot disappeared from her sensor. Nothing appeared through the thick snow; only the trees stood sentinel, and the only movement was the stirring of their branches in the breeze.

Then the dot burned solid again, this time closer. She raised her arm cannon and the reticule projected on the HUD. But no target came from the woods, and the gold dot disappeared.

Markos woke after less than the prescribed hour. She quickly recounted the events of their mystery companion. After hearing of that, Markos grabbed her by the hand and they began their run again. He ran with great urgency now. They did not stop for nearly two hours before they both succumbed to fatigue.

Day was coming on now, the sun rose above the peaked trees and the snow shone brightly. The fall abated slightly, but not after the storm had dumped nearly two feet of snow on the ground. It nearly rose to their knees now. 

With the dawn Samus felt the fears of the night melt away. They walked a short way, then slept long under the shelter of a large tree. Though they meant only to sleep a few hours then make the remaining thirty five miles. They had time to eat some of the tasteless rations that they brought. Then they slept for a long, long time.

Markos jolted awake. It was nearly nightfall the next day. He tapped on his helmet and his HUD flickered to life. On his motion sensor display there was a single gold dot, close by him. The threat meter leapt almost to the top. 

"Samus!" he bellowed, grabbed her by the wrist and wrenching her up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a shape burst out from the snow were it had been buried. "Run!"

They turned and sprinted headlong through the forest, Markos dragging Samus behind him. The dot on the sensor followed them, it was right on top of them.

Markos led them on a long looping trail, so then they were running straight towards the ship once again. Still the unseen enemy followed them.

Then Samus heard something whiz by her head, then it slammed into Markos. 

Markos' suit suddenly froze in mid stride, right leg bent upward, left leg thrust backwards. He pitched forward and fell with a crunch of snow, and his visor revealed on the crystalline snow. "Run Samus!"

"No way!" she said, bringing her cannon up to bear. "I can take him down!"

"No!" he barked. "Run back to the ship! There are coordinates to Varia on your hard drives. Get them and go there! My people will know you! Go! And don't let anyone see the way to Varia!"

Another silver ball whizzed by and smashed into a tree, were it exploded in a shower of bark.

Now Samus saw their pursuer, the SA-X, walking purposefully towards her, arm cannon smoking. It looked at her balefully, the green visor piercing her like a cyclops eye. Then it raised its arm cannon.

"Go!" screamed Markos.

With great reluctance, Samus turned and ran. Another silver projectile shot by and missed narrowly. The SA-X rushed forward, blasting away with its arm cannon. On struck home and Samus fell into the snow, her armor was breached. Then she struggled to her feet and kept on running, firing wildly as she went.

Markos still lay there, struggling vainly against his metal prison. He heard the crunch of snow as their assailant walked by him and stood by his head. He could see a sliver of orange metal through the snow.

"Ahh, the famous invader at last. We finally meet, Markos."

He didn't know the voice. But somehow it was familiar, but not in a friendly manner.

"Damn! She got my cannon!" there was the sound of something heavy falling. "She won't get far," the voice said again, this time softer, more congenial.

He heard the sound of someone tinkering on his armor. The HUD reappeared, but when he tried to move he was still stuck fast. "Look at your thermometer, Markos."

Markos complied. 

"Yes, the cold is coming deeper. Soon it will be fifty below. Poor Markos, if only he'd checked the weather report."

Then there was a snap, and a warning message appeared on the HUD.

  


*Varia System Malfunction-Service Immediately*

  


*WARNING: Ambient Temperature at -32̊ Fahrenheit*

  


*Estimated Survival Time at Current Ambience: 3.5 minutes*

  


"Yes, Markos. You can feel the onset of hypothermia coming on. You're suit will shield you for now, but without the Varia system you'll freeze."

"What's this?" the voice said. He heard a grating sound as the knife on his belt was drawn. "A pretty thing. For use on other pretty things, perhaps?"

He heard an abrasive cackle, "Good luck, Markos. Don't worry about the bitch. She'll be dead with you soon enough."

Then there was a series of crunching footsteps as Maxon hurried away. The sound became softer and softer and softer, and with it Markos' breathing went softer and softer, until it faded away into silence.

Samus collapsed heavily against the ship. Her suit was barely functioning. Soon the movement systems would fail, and then it would be useless. She retreated into the shelter of her ship. The gold dot on her motion sensor was fast approaching.

She stripped from her outer armor, leaving only a loose body suit that offered some warmth. Now she had to find her gun. With a well placed shot she could finish off the SA-X. 

Suddenly from the open loading bay the SA-X leapt up. Samus let out a cry of fear as old pains awakened from the debacle at BSL. She gritted her teeth and waited for the killing blow to come.

But all she heard was a harsh, tinny sound as the SA-X's shoulders shook. It had no arm cannon, she had damaged it with a wild shot. But in its right hand it clutched Markos' ceremonial dagger. 

"Well, Samus. Finally, we are met here. Too bad you didn't turn yourself to me on Polis. You're death would've been much less painless." It twirled the knife; the blade flashed in the light. "Not to mention I could've had my way with your limp, dead, but nonetheless succulent body. How I miss those days. If only you're invader friend hadn't shown up."

"Maxon!" she hissed, recognizing the voice.

"Yes, it's me? Surprised? I guess the duds are a bit different than the last time you saw me."

"Were did you get that?" she demanded.

"Well, our friends the X gave it to me, in exchange for you dead. That occurrence is greatly beneficial to both of us, though I'm afraid my parasitic compatriots are far messier than I am. A bloody corpse is no good to make love with."

Samus gasped and spat at her feet, "They've poisoned your brain, Maxon. Even you wouldn't do something so sick and perverse."

"Maybe. But I'm a different person now." He took a step forward and Samus dropped back. She was in the doorway to her bedroom now. "I have power, Samus. Power like you wouldn't believe."

He pressed forward and she retreated into the room. A metal hand shoved her down onto the bed. The knife reared back like the fang of a venomous snake. _The gun, the gun! _A voice seemed to scream in her brain. The gun under the pillow, from when she had first met Markos!

She reached up and felt her hand closer around the cold grip. But what good would it do? Bullets would only bounce off the armor.

_The scar! The scar! _What scar? What did it mean? Then she remembered talking with Markos, the scar on her abdomen, the weak point in the armor. It had to work.

"Well, Samus, my old friend, it finally comes full circle. The teacher falls at the hands of the old pupil." 

He tensed his grip on the knife and poured all his strength into his arm, till it shook with strain. Then he started to plunge it down. 

Samus ripped the gun from under the pillar and drove it into the soft, flexible armor weave on the suit's abdomen. She fired one shot and crimson blood squirted from the wound. Maxon sagged forward, so close to her head the she could see the disbelief in his eyes through the visor.

"No way, bitch," he gasped, trying to bring the knife down on her throat. No thoughts of riches and credits filled his mind now, only the thought of killing Samus, of seeing her blood flow freely in the cold air. 

Samus squeezed the trigger and the gun barked four times. The knife fell from Maxon's hand and he collapsed on the bed beside her, dead.


	12. Epilogue

Epilogue

  


Samus walked slowly down the causeway. She wore her fusion suit, minus the helmet, which remained at her new ship on the landing pad. At her waist the knife of Markos was girded. She walked proudly, but a sadness hung behind her eyes.

A tall man with a deep scar across his cheek met her at the end of the causeway. At his side was a boy, just started walking by the look of him. He could be no more than two years old, but with the same grim expression. The both had dark hair, and dark, brooding eyes.

She stopped in front of them. "I am Samus Aran," she greeted.

The man's expression softened, "I am Darrin Hale, and this," he set his hand on the young boy's shoulder, "is my oath son, Mikhal. We greet you, Samus Aran, hunter of the Pirates."

They both bowed low. As he right himself, Darrin spied the knife at her waist. "Markos' dagger," he whispered. "I must have it."

Samus dropped her hand to the hilt of the dagger. "I will not give it," she said sternly. The little boy scowled, but looked at her with a deep admiration.

"I am sorry, but it is custom. I am Markos' brother, by blood. The blade must be given proper rights, and stored away. If you wish it, you may claim it when you earn a warriorship."

Samus nodded slowly, and handed the knife and scabbard to Darrin. "Keep it safe," she said. "I loved him. And that's all that's left but memories."

Darrin nodded slowly, stowing the knife within the folds of his robe. "This love you speak of is unknown to me. But by the blood of Markos' and my family, and by all oath bonds I have made and will make, I will keep this dagger."

Samus shook her head and a tear fell from her eye. Little Mikhal bent down and touched the salty moisture on the concrete. Then he touched her leg. She looked down at him with watery eyes.

"First thing you must learn, Samus Aran," he said gravely, "Varians must not cry. We have no time for crying."

She looked down with pity at the grim-faced toddler. "Love," she said. "If only there was time to show you what love means."

Then she drew herself up and wiped away her tears. Mikhal gazed up at her in awe, for she seemed to radiate strength and power. "Now, show me this wondrous planet of Varia."

Darrin led her on a tour of the main city, but she listened to very little. As they walked down the streets and avenues, her mind was captured by one thought.

_I'm here, Markos. It doesn't feel like home yet. But perhaps I will learn to love it, as you learned to love. And perhaps these people will learn to love too_.

And with that thought, Samus Aran began her life in the Varian Society.

  


_So ends the first part of the history of the Varian Wars, told by Samus Aran, and written by her oath brother Darrin Hale. The volumes are now kept by her marson, Mikhal Tallin, and her blood daughter Hillory Aran._


	13. Author's NoteThanks

Author's Note  
  
So I finshed "The Varian Wars: Part I". Not bad, if I may say so, for my first fic(first completed fic, anyway). Obviously it isn't perfect. There's plenty of grammatical errors to correct, as well as some story elements to add now that I see how it turned out. These will be changed at my leisure, since they don't detract too much from the enjoyability of the story. I will notify any readers of these updates in the summary. You will see a big REVISED at the very end to show that I have made some changes, though you probably won't notice them and they were only changed to ease my conscience.  
  
Part II will be coming soon. If you didn't understand some of the lingo at the epilogue don't worry, part II will reveal all. I hope to incorporate the character of Major Smithson in Part II, as well as give the Space Pirates and perhaps a few Chozo some limelight. However, the main focus will be on the Varians, and Samus' trials and tribulations in their alien society. I'm hard at work fleshing out the Varian society; I want to give it as much depth as possible.  
  
Well, that is all. A special thanks goes to all who read and all who reviewed this story. Tell you're friends! This fic may also be appearing on the Metroid Database, once I get all the errors straightened out, I will submit a polished copy to them. If you have any criticisms of suggestions, review the story, or drop me a line at airbornranger521@hotmail.com  
  
Farewell, loyal readers(if there are any).  
  
  
  
Hooah!,  
  
Airbornranger521 


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